I 


J 

THE* SILVER  THREAD'AND 
OTHER    FOLK    PLAYS 
FOR  YOUNG   PEOPLE 

Arranged  for  Use  in  the  Grammar  Grades 

BY 

CONSTANCE  D'ARCY  MACKAY 

iuthor  of '  *  The  House  of  the  Heart  and  Other  Plays  for  Children  *  * 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  igio, 

BY 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

Published  December,  1910 

^  Amateurs  may  produce  the  plays  in  this  volume 
without  charge.  Professional  actors  should  apply  for 
acting  rights  to  the  author,  in  care  of  the  publishers. 


PREFACE 

With  the  revival  of  folk  dancing  and  folk  songs  for 
young  people  has  also  come  a  renewed  interest  in  folk 
tales  which  leads  inevitably  to  folk  drama,  the  latter 
a  rendering  of  old-world  myths  and  hearthstone  stories 
into  a  form  that  lends  them  the  added  value  of  costume 
and  action. 

Simplicity  is  the  keynote  of  the  following  plays,  as  it 
was  of  the  folk  tales  from  which  they  were  taken — quaint 
superstitions  quick  with  the  life  of  the  soil  from  which 
they  sprang.  Each  play  contains  some  homely  truth  or 
bit  of  philosophy;  for  a  folk  play  lacking  its  attendant 
moral  is  the  proverbial  egg  without  its  salt.  The  plays 
contained  in  this  volume  are  gathered  from  eight  widely 
different  sources:  the  Cornish  mines,  the  Rhinish  for- 
ests, the  Lincolnshire  fells,  the  Russian  steppes,  the 
sea-coast  of  Ireland,  the  hill-slopes  of  Italy,  the  snug 
fields  of  Brittany,  and  the  troll-haunted  meadows  of 
Norway. 

With  each  play  is  a  forenote  on  its  origin,  and  a  full 
description  of  the  easy  costumes  and  scene-settings  which 
are  especially  designed  to  fit  the  limitations  of  the 
schoolroom  stage.     The  plays  have  already  stood  the 

iii 

Q  O  O  '-y  er  o 


iv  PREFACE 

test  of  production  at  performances  given  by  The  Edu- 
cational Players  of  New  York  City;  The  People's  Insti- 
tute and  University  Settlement  of  New  York  City; 
South  End  House  and  Lincoln  House  of  Boston.  They 
have  also  been  given  in  various  schools  and  at  outdoor 
pageants  in  both  cities. 

Thanks*  are  due  to  The  Normal  Instructor,  The 
Churchman,  The  Popular  Educator,  and  The  De- 
lineator for  their  kind  permission  to  reprint  these 
plays. 


CONTENTS 

PAG& 

The  Silver  Thread ^ 

The  Forest  Spring 7 

The  Foam  Maiden .     .  io7 

Troll  Magic 

The  Three  Wishes ^53 

A  Brewing  of  Brains    ...••••  ^7^ 

...  191 

Siegfried 

The  Snow  Witch ^^' 


**The  few  attempts  that  have  been  made  in 
this  direction  (i.e.  the  producing  of  plays  for 
young  people)  are  astonishingly  rewarding  to 
those  who  regard  the  power  of  self-expression  as 
one  of  the  most  precious  boons  of  education.*' 

— Jane  Addams: 
The  Spirit  of  Youth  and  the  City  Streets 


THE   SILVER    THREAD 
A  Cornish  Folk  Play  in  Three  Acts 


^ 


CAST 


CuBERT^  a  miner  lad 

Dame  M  o  r  n  a  ^  his 
mother 

The  Woman  from  Be- 
yond THE  Hills 

The  Princecs  Gwenda 

King  Radnor,  her  father 

Mabina,  her  nurse 

Alcie,  another  of  the 
Princess's  attendants 

GUNDRED       l^^^^j^ 

Thorwald  V  ^       J 
(  Guards 


King  Shadowcob 
Prince  Slumpkin 
MoTTLESNOUT,       Lord 

High  Chancellor 
TroCl 

KOLL 

Ratkin 

Clawfoot 

Mole's  Ear 

Shag 

Other     Goblins,      Castle 

Guards,     Maids  -  in  - 

Waiting 


>-  Goblins 


Season  :  The  Spring. 


SOLBERG 

Time  :  The  ?nythical  age. 

Place:  A  Kingdom  West  of  the  Moon  and  East  of  the 
Sun;  yet  not  too  far  from  the  rock-bound  hills  of 
Cornwall, 

ACT  I.     Scene  i.  Cubert's  home  on  a  late  afternoon 
in  Spring. 
Scene  ii.  The  Goblins'  forge  room. 

ACT  H.     The  Bedroom  of  the  Princess.     (The  same 
night.) 

ACT    HI.     Scene    i.    The    Goblins'    council    hall. 
(The  small   hours   of   the   following 
morning.) 
Scene  ii.  Cubert's  home  as  in  Act  I. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Source 

Although  this  play  is  partly  founded  on  MacDon- 
ald's  well-known  fairy  tale,  it  has  its  roots  deep  in 
Cornish  soil,  where  the  spriggans  or  goblins  were  said  to 
live  in  the  mines,  and  where,  up  to  as  late  as  1869,  the 
miners  still  believed  in  them,  and  spoke  of  them  as  the 
"  small  people  "  or  '*  knockers,"  the  latter  name  being 
given  them  from  the  fact  that  strange  sounds  were  heard 
in  the  mines  at  night,  curious  tappings  which  the  miners 
attributed  to  the  spriggans'  picks.  Lights  also  were 
seen  moving  about  the  dark  passages  of  the  mines — tiny 
lanterns  carried  by  goblin  fingers!  Indeed,  these  eerie 
creatures  dominate  the  greater  part  of  Cornish  folk 
lore.  That  the  spriggans  had  tunnels  and  lodes  of 
their  own  w^as  universally  believed;  else  how  account 
for  the  winding  ways  the  miners  sometimes  came  on, 
deep,  deep  underground.  Often,  too,  queer,  misshapen 
tools  were  found,  such  as  mortals  never  work  with. 
These  may  have  accounted  for  the  tappings  the  night 
shifts  heard ;  for  the  goblins  were  reputed  to  sleep  by 
day,  and  only  commenced  their  labors  when  the  shadows 
fell.  Amidst  the  boulders  of  the  dark  and  rock-clad 
hills  of  Morva  many  goblins  were  said  to  lurk.  They 
were  fond  of  working  mischief  to  humans  (so  hearth- 

3 


4'    ;  .  ,.   ..    .Trie  SILVER  THREAD 

stone  stories' ran!')*,  ^tiS*  Im'  this  and  many  other  ways 
closely  resembled  the  trolls  of  Scandinavia. 

Stage  Setting 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  the  play  can  be  pro- 
duced. It  may  be  given  on  the  well-equipped  stage  of 
an  assembly  hall;  or  in  the  schoolroom  itself.  The 
larger  production  is  the  first  one  to  be  considered. 
While  the  stage  directions  call  for  three  sets  of  scenery, 
the  play  can  readily  be  given  with  one.  In  this  case 
the  set  for  the  Princess's  room  should  have  walls  of 
some  light  and  delicate  tint,  as  pretty  as  possible.  Then 
the  rough  side  of  the  set  can  be  turned  for  Cubert's 
home,  as  the  boards  and  props  will  be  quite  appropriate 
for  a  meager  dwelling.  If  this  rough  side  of  the  scene 
is  painted  a  weather-stained  gray,  it  can  be  made  to 
serve  as  a  background  for  the  goblin  scenes  by  banking 
against  it  slabs  and  boulders  fashioned  of  slate-colored 
cambric  tacked  over  boxes,  etc.  These  slabs  should  as 
nearly  as  possible  represent  the  kind  of  thing  seen  in 
professional  photographers'  rooms  where  "  outdoor " 
pictures  are  taken.  Indeed,  a  photographer  might  be 
induced  to  lend  a  few  of  these,  which  make  a  splendidly 
"  stony  "  interior.  The  lights  are,  of  course,  turned 
very  low  for  this  set,  to  make  it  as  dark  as  possible. 
The  Silver  Thread  can  be  made  of  fine  silver  wire  lifted 
into  sight  by  nearly  invisible  black  wires.  For  the 
schoolroom  stage  a  hearth  formed  of  wide  drygoods 
boxes,  against  which  gray  cambric  is  bulked  to  repre- 
sent uneven  stones,  marked  here  and  there  with  black 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  5 

and  white  chalk.  Embers  of  scarlet  tinsel,  and  red  and 
black  paper.  A  spinning-wheel  made  of  two  small- 
sized  wagon  wheels  fastened  to  a  wooden  frame.  A 
distaff  with  flax  on  it.  The  exit  should  be  formed 
by  screens  covered  with  gray  canvas  or  cambric.  A 
gray  curtain  should  be  hung  against  the  blackboard  for 
a  background,  and  against  this  should  be  fastened  the 
full  short  chintz  curtains  that  represent  the  windows. 
A  screen  with  a  painted  scene  on  it  for  the  vista 
glimpsed  through  the  open  doorway.  When  the  play 
begins  the  blinds  in  the  schoolroom  should  be  lowered, 
and  the  candles  lighted  on  the  table  of  the  miniature 
stage.  The  schoolroom  bookcase  may  be  used  for  the 
cupboard,  and  the  schoolroom  chairs  and  tables  will 
form  the  rest  of  the  furniture.  A  sheet  of  tin  will 
make  the  thunder-crashes. 

For  the  goblin  scenes  gray  boulders  formed  of  can- 
vas should  be  grouped  against  the  gray  background.  A 
forge  fashioned  from  a  drygoods  box  painted  black,  with 
a  shaped  top  of  black  cardboard.  If  red  electric  bulbs 
could  be  turned  on  for  the  fire  beneath  it,  they  would 
greatly  heighten  the  impression.  If  these  cannot  be 
had,  scarlet  tinsel  must  be  again  to  the  fore.  The  tools 
the  boys  will  be  able  to  fashion;  the  picks  have  broom 
handles,  and  the  iron  part  may  be  made  of  cardboard. 
The  torches  fastened  against  the  wall  should  be  of  gray 
cardboard,  with  tinsel  and  scarlet  flames,  shaped  to  a 
point. 

For  the  Princess's  bedroom  scene  a  pretty  dressing- 
table  is  required.     Failing  this,  boxes  draped  in  pale- 


6  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

blue  cambric.  The  bed,  a  narrow  cot  with  a  pale-blue 
cambric  cover.  Pale-blue  hangings  for  supposed  win- 
dows. On  no  account  should  plush  or  rattan  chairs 
be  used.  Ordinary  canvas-topped  camp  stools  without 
a  back  can  be  covered  in  pale  blue,  and  will  take  up  less 
room  than  the  average  furniture. 

For  the  entrance  of  the  Woman  from  Beyond  the 
Hills  violin  music  should  be  played  off  stage.  For  the 
thunder  of  breaking  waters  the  sheet  of  tin  will  come 
into  requisition  a  second  time. 

This  play  has  already  been  used  in  the  schools  for 
Group  Reading  as  well  as  acting.  For  Group  Read- 
ing the  teacher  reads  the  scene  setting:  Then  the  list  of 
characters  is  read,  and  each  student  chooses  (or  has 
chosen  for  him)  a  part.  To  the  lines  of  this  part  he 
adheres  throughout  the  play,  reading  whenever  it  is 
his  turn.  In  this  way  the  play  is  taken  as  a  lesson  in 
English,  the  urge  of  the  story  as  it  gathers  impetus 
making  for  clearer  enunciation. 

Costumes 

CuBERT.  Slate-gray  knee-breeches,  and  a  gray  shirt, 
open  at  the  neck. 

Dame  Morna.  A  leaf-brown  dress,  ankle  length, 
and  a  crossed  kerchief  of  white. 

The  Woman  from  Beyond  the  Hills.  A 
purple-gray  dress — the  purple-gray  that  is  the  color  of 
far-off  hills.  A  cloak  of  the  same,  hooded.  The 
material  should  be  a  soft  woolen  cloth. 

Princess  Gwenda.     When  she  first  enters,  a  white 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  7 

woolen  dress,  ankle  length,  falling  in  straight  folds 
from  a  square  neck.  A  border  of  cloth  of  gold  around 
the  edge  of  dress,  and  at  neck  and  sleeves.  If  hand- 
some materials  are  out  of  the  question,  white  canton 
flannel  and  gold  paper  fastened  to  It,  will  serve.  A 
cloak  of  rose  red. 

Mabina.  Dark-green  dress  with  square  neck  and 
full  skirt,  ankle  length.  Border  of  cream.  Lace  at 
throat  and  at  elbow  sleeves.  A  dark-green  cloak. 
Pretty  slippers  and  stockings.  ., 

Alcie.  Cream-colored  dress  the  same  style  as  Ma- 
blna's,  bordered  In  cherry  color. 

King  Radnor.  A  golden  helmet.  (Ci^rdboard  and 
gold  paper.)  White  plume.  Long  riding-cloak  of 
purple  velvet. 

The  goblins  are  in  tight  black  goblin  suits.  All 
those  who  have  speaking  parts  have  some  distinguishing 
mark;  Mole's  Ear  has  velvet  ears;  Ratkin  has  fur 
about  his  cap,  and  fur  shoes.  King  Shadowcob  has  a 
gray  beard,  and  a  gold  crown.  Prince  Slumpkin  has  a 
much  smaller  gold  crown.  The  castle  maids-in-walt- 
ing  wear  the  plain  robes  with  trains  that  are  seen  In  all 
illustrated  fairy  tales.  (Grimm  or  Anderson.)  They 
should  be  of  soft  dull  colors,  greens,  grays,  blues. 

The  guards  wear  silver  helmets  and  silver  breast- 
plates that  join  other  bits  of  mail  on  the  shoulders,  run- 
ning out  towards  the  arm  so  as  to  give  the  shoulders 
great  width.  (Silver  paper  stitched  to  canvas.) 
Cromwellian  looking  coats.  Tall  boots!  The  cos- 
tumes are  buff  and  silver. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD* 

ACT  I 

Scene  I 

Cubert's  home,  A  clean  and  somewhat  bare  room, 
with  smoke-stained  walls  and  rafters. 

At  the  left  a  cobbled  fireplace,  and  above  it  a  deal 
shelf  on  which  are  a  few  earthenware  plates  and  cups, 
and  a  couple  of  pewter  candlesticks.  On  the  hearth- 
stone below  a  bellows  and  tongs.  Also  an  iron  platter 
with  dark  bread  cakes  on  it. 

To  the  right,  towards  the  background,  a  cupboard 
containing  dishes.  Its  doors  are  closed.  Towards  the 
right  foreground  a  spinning-wheel  and  chair. 

In  the  background,  toward  the  right,  a  door,  giving 
on  the  outside.  Towards  the  left  a  window,  rudely 
latticed,  and  swinging  inward.  Between  this  window 
and  the  door  the  bare  wall  is  hung  with  such  tools  as 
miners  use,  a  boring  awl,  an  old  pick,  a  rusty  lantern, 
etc. 

In  the  center  of  the  room  a  plain  deal  table,  with  a 
quaint  deal  chair.  There  is  another  chair  of  the  same 
kind  near  the  fireplace, 

*  Copyright,  1910,  by  The  Normal  Instructor, , 
9 


10  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

The  door  in  the  background  is  open.  Through  it 
can  he  seen  a  range  of  boulder-strewn  hills  and  the 
towers  of  a  castle  in  the  distance.  The  light  is  that  of 
late  afternoon,  swiftly  deepening  to  twilight.  At  the 
rise  of  the  curtain.  Dame  Morna  is  contentedly  spin- 
ning. From  outside  comes  the  sound  of  some  one  sing- 
ing. It  is  faint  at  first,  and  then  grows  clearer  and 
stronger.  Dame  Morna  raises  her  head  and  listens. 
She  is  a  middle-aged  woman  and  wears  the  dress  of  a 
peasant,  with  a  crossed  kerchief, 

CUBERT 

(without), 

"  When  the  darkness  gathers  in  the  mountain  glen, 
Folks  dare  not  go  a-walking  for  fear  of  Little  Men! 
Goblins   old    and    goblins   young,    clad    against    the 

weather 
With  skin  of  bat,  fur  of  cat,  and  gray  owFs  feather." 

Dame  Morna 

(rising), 

^Tis  Cubert's  voice!  What  can  have  happened  to 
bring  him  home  so  early? 

CuBERT 

(running  in   ...  a  blithe,  buoyant  figure  of  a  lad). 

Mother!  (Flings  arm  about  her.  Then  laughs, 
releases  her,  and  looks  toward  fireplace,)     How  good 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  ii 

the  cakes  smell!     What  a  wonderful  mother  to  bake 
such  wonderful  cakes! 

Dame  Morna. 

They  must  bake  yet  a  little  more,  son  Cubert.     You 
^are  well  before  your  hour. 

Cubert 

^        (hanging  up  pick  and  lantern  on  wall,  back). 

That  I  am!  Do  I  smell  of  gunpowder?  The 
miners  are  blasting  and  they  said  Fd  best  be  off. 
There's  no  work  I  can  do  till  to-morrow,  so  here  I  am ! 
(Faint  booming  in  distance,)  That  was  a  great  blast! 
How  the  rocks  must  be  flying!  The  goblins  under- 
ground will  be  holding  their  ears. 

Dame  Morna 

(busying  herself  with   testing  and  turning  the  cakes, 

which  she  finally  places  in  cupboard,  leaving  a 

few  for  Cubert  on  the  table  as  she  passes). 

Goblins,  indeed!  If  the  ugly  creatures  only  stayed 
underground  we'd  have  nought  to  complain  of;  but 
they  are  growing  bolder  and  bolder.  In  my  young 
days  people  seldom  saw  the  goblins;  yet  now,  as  soon 
as  twilight  comes,  they  slip  from  their  hiding-places  In 
the  hills,  and  crouch  behind  rocks  and  stunted  trees, 
till  it  is  hard  to  tell  which  is  goblin  and  which  is 
shadow.     Last  night  when  I  was  coming  back  from 


12  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

neighbor  Mertram's,  I  saw  six  of  them  sitting  under 
the  cleft  of  a  big  stone,  and  when  I  flashed  my  lantern 
on  them  they  vanished.  I  wonder  if  it's  the  fine  spring 
weather  that's  bringing  them  out  in  such  numbers,  or  is 
it  the  progress  the  miners  are  making  in  the  mine  ? 

CUBERT. 

It  can't  be  that,  for  the  deeper  we  miners  dig,  the 
deeper  the  goblins  burrow  under  us. 

Dame  Morna 

(at   her  spinning-wheel). 

Aye,  and  the  oldest  miners  in  this  district  have  never 
yet  found  the  place  where  the  goblins  live. 

CuBERT 
(chuckling   delightedly). 

Not!     It  took  the  youngest  miner  of  them  all  to 
discover  that! 

Dame  Morna 
(turning  quickly), 
Cubert,  you  don't  mean  that  you 

Cubert 

(sitting  on  the  table  and  nibbling  at  cakes). 

Indeed  I  do,  mother.     Listen.     As  I  was  running 
home  to-day  I  heard  the  queerest  sound  like  a  whisper 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  13 

coming  from  under  the  earth.  It  was  so  strange  that 
I  laid  my  ear  to  the  ground  to  listen,  and,  sure  enough, 
there  were  the  goblins,  talking.  Their  voices  came 
from  a  great  distance  under  me,  but  I  heard  them  say, 
"To-night"   and   "The  castle"! 

Dame  Morna. 

The  castle!  They  dare  not  be  planning  mischief  to 
the  castle!     What  else  did  they  say,  Cubert? 

CUBERT. 

That's  all  I  heard,  mother.  After  I've  had  my  sup- 
per Fm  going  back  to  the  same  rock  to  find  what  it's 
all  about.  It  will  be  quite  dark  by  that  time,  and  if  I 
can  move  one  of  the  stones  without  their  guessing  it,  I 
can  creep  through  and  hear  it  all. 

Dame  Morna. 

Be  careful,  Cubert.  You  know,  the  goblins  hate 
the  sunlight  people,  as  they  call  all  those  who  live  above 
the  ground.  They're  always  ready  to  do  the  miner- 
folk  a  mischief. 

Cubert. 

And  the  castle  folk,  too,  it  may  be.  They  said  "  The 
castle."  I  wonder  if  the  Little  Princess  knows  about 
them? 

Dame  Morna. 

How  should  she?  The  Princess  is  never  out  after 
nightfall,  and  'tis  not  the  custom  of  the  great  folk  in 


14  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

the  castle  yonder  to  wander  about  the  hills.  I'll  war- 
rant there's  none  but  the  miners  and  the  miners'  wives 
and  children  who  have  ever  seen  the  goblins  or  know 
anything  at  all  about  them.  Even  if  the  castle  servants 
knew  it,  they  would  not  dare  to  tell  the  Princess.  His 
Majesty,  King  Radnor,  would  not  thank  them  for 
frightening  her  little  Highness. 

CUBERT. 

Yet,  if  ill  things  are,  sure  'tis  better  to  know  they 
are,  and  where  they  are.  How  did  there  ever  come 
to  be  such  things  as  goblins,  mother? 

Dame  Morna, 

'Tis  hard  to  tell,  son.  It  all  happened  so  long  ago. 
But  the  wisest  believe  that  the  goblins  were  once 
creatures  more  like  us,  loving  sunshine  and  fresh  air. 
But  their  deeds  were  evil.  In  order  to  rob  and  annoy 
folk  they  took  to  living  in  mountain  caves,  and  from 
that  it  was  only  a  step  to  living  altogether  underground. 
The  years  went  on,  and,  because  they  lived  in  the  dark 
and  because  their  minds  were  hideous,  their  bodies  grew 
warped  and  hideous,  too,  for  the  insides  of  things  will 
aye  shape  their  outsides. 

CuBERT. 

How  strange,  then,  mother,  that  good  King  Radnor 
lets  the  goblins  roam  at  will. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  15 

Dame  Morna. 

I  doubt  if  King  Radnor  knows  or  cares.  He  keeps 
to  his  castle.  It  is  only  those  who  live  in  the  open  who 
learn  to  see  far  off.  And  as  for  the  goblins  them- 
selves, I  fear  there  is  no  way  in  which  we  can  be  rid 
of  them;  for  you  cannot  hurt  or  wound  them.  Their 
strange  misshapen  bodies  are  as  hard  as  iron. 

CUBERT. 

And  there  is  no  one  who  knows  how  to  rule  them  ? 

Dame  Morna. 

I  never  yet  heard  certainly  of  any  one  who  had 
power  over  them,  though  some  say 

CuBERT 

(as  the  music  of  The  Woman  from  Beyond  the  Hills 
faintly  begins). 

Hark! 

Dame  Morna. 
What  is  it  ? 

CuBERT. 

When  you  said  ..."  has  power "  •  •  •  I  thought 
•  •  .  I  heard  •  .  , 


i6  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Dame  Morna. 
Heard  what? 

CUBERT 

(with  face  uplifted). 

Music  .  .  .  music  that  I  seem  to  have  been  hearing 
for  a  long  time  .  .  .  strong,  sweet  music.  Such  music 
as  they  play  before  kings  and  queens  when  they  go  out 
into  their  kingdoms.  .  .  . 

[^The  music  swells  gradually. 

Dame  Morna 
(turning). 
What  shadow  is  that  across  the  doorway? 

Cubert. 

It  is  the  shadow  of  an  old  woman.  See!  She  is 
coming  in. 

[The  music  swells  louder  and  then  stops.  The 
Woman  from  Beyond  the  Hills  enters,  a 
mysteriously  regal  figure,  for  all  that  her 
dress  is  that  of  a  peasant.  Her  hair  is 
white;  but  her  face  is  unlined.  She  wears 
a  long  gray  cloak  about  her  shoulders, 
whose  hood  half  hides  her  face.  She  car- 
ries a  tall  staff. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  17 

The  Woman  from  Beyond  the  Hills. 
Peace  and  strength  unto  all  beneath  this  roof. 

IDame  Morna  rises.  She  and  Cubert  regard 
The  Woman  for  one  second's  time  in  utter 
amazement.  Then  Dame  Morna  regains 
her  self-possession,  and  goes  hospitably  for- 
ward. 

Dame  Morna. 

I  thank  you.  Will  you  not  sit  and  rest?  (Cubert 
hastens  to  bring  forward  the  chair  that  is  at  table, 
center.)  You  are  a  stranger.  You  must  come  from 
beyond  the  hills. 

The  Woman 

(seating  herself), 

I  am  never  weary;  but  I  will  rest  if  it  pleases  you, 
Dame  Morna. 

Dame  Morna 

(going  back  and  forth  from  the  cupboard). 

Will  you  not  taste  our  bread  and  goat^s  cheese? 
And  here  is  a  cordial  I  made  last  Autumn  from  moun- 
tain grapes.  It  is  not  well  that  one  should  cross  our 
threshold  unrefreshed,  though,  indeed,  I  know  that  this 
is  but  coarse  fare. 


i8  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

The  Woman. 

It  is  sweeter  than  some  I  have  eaten  in  palaces.  The 
white  bread  of  queens  is  often  bitter  to  the  taste. 

CUBERT 

(plucking  at  his  mother's  sleeve). 
What  means  she? 

Dame  Morna 

(aside,  much  mystified). 

I  know  not. 

The  Woman. 

A  grudged  crust  is  dry  on  the  lips,  but  that  which 
is  freely  given  warms  the  heart.  You  are  wondering 
about  me,  Cubert,  lad.  Who  am  I,  and  why  am  I, 
your  great  eyes  ask?  Well,  some  say  I  know  the  ways 
of  white  magic,  and  some  call  me  The  Woman  from 
Beyond  the  Hills,  but  names  signify  nothing,  and  are 
neither  here  nor  there. 

Cubert. 

You  call  me  "  Cubert,"  and  yet  I  have  never  seen 
you  before. 

The  Woman. 

Think  back  a  little,  miner's  lad.  'Twas  about  this 
time  last  year  when  the  river  was  rain-swollen,  as  it  is 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  19 

now,  that  you  stopped  on  your  way  homeward  to  help 
an  old  gray  woman  over  its  muddy  banks. 

CUBERT. 

I  had  forgotten. 

The  Woman. 

But  I  have  not  forgotten.  It  was  a  good  gift,  the 
gift  of  kind  help.  I  am  come  to-day  to  bring  you  a 
gift  in  turn. 

Dame  Morna 

(a  trifle  proudly). 

My  son  wants  no  payment  for  serving  those  that 
need  his  service. 

The  Woman. 

Yet  he  may  take  the  love  of  those  he  serves,  and  the 
gift  it  gives. 

[Hands  him  a  ring. 


CuBERT. 

I        A  ring!     Oh,  mother,  look! 

The  Woman. 

f  Aye,  a  ring.  Whenever  you  are  in  danger  or  trouble, 
place  that  ring  upon  your  finger,  and  it  will  show  you 
where  lies  safety. 


20  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

CUBERT. 

I  thank  you. 

The  Woman. 
Show  you  safety,  I  said,  not  bring  you  to  it. 

CuBERT. 

I  know.  I  must  up  and  find  my  safety  once  Fm 
shown  the  way. 

The  Woman. 

Aye,  Cubert,  and  remember  this:  That  which  we 
flee  from  masters  us  in  the  end;  but  of  that  which  we 
turn  and  face  we  are  always  master. 

Cubert. 

ril  keep  my  face  to  my  fear.  Til  not  run.  I  will 
remember. 

The  Woman 

(rising). 

And  I  will  remember  the  lad  who  wears  my  ring 
and  does  not  turn  his  back.     Farewell. 

Dame  Morn  a. 
Must  you  leave  us  so  quickly  ? 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  21 

The  Woman. 

Aye,  for  the  twilight  hour  is  nearly  done,  and  there's 
a  storm  brewing.  Look  to  it,  Cubert,  that  when  you 
wear  the  ring  you  obey  the  ring. 

[Exit. 

Cubert. 

Hark !  the  music !  ...  It  is  playing  before  her  as  she 
goes!  It  is  .  .  .  (Rushes  to  door  J  Wait!  No! 
She's  gone !  There's  not  a  trace  of  her !  Nothing  but 
the  evening  mists  rolling  up  from  the  valley.  As  for 
the  storm  she  said  was  brewing,  why,  'tis  the  clearest 
evening!     The  sky  is  just  waiting  for  the  stars  to  be  lit. 

Dame  Morna 

(lighting  candles). 

Come  in,  Cubert,  and  close  the  door.  'Tis  almost 
supper  time,  and  the  air  is  chill  these  Spring  nights.  I 
shivered  as  she  stood  there;  I  shivered  as  she  went. 

Cubert 

(doing  as  he  is  bid). 

Do  you  believe  what  that  strange  old  woman  said 
about  the  ring? 

Dame  Morna. 

How  can  I  tell?  There's  wisdom  that's  not  our 
wisdom,  Cubert,  and  there  are  things  beyond  our  see- 


22  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

ing  that  we  must  yet  believe  in.     A  moment  ago  you 
said  there  was  no  storm  in  sight.     Look  again. 

CUBERT 

(at  window). 

Why,  the  sky  is  full  of  dark  clouds  and  the  wind's 
rising.  And  last  year's  leaves  are  scurrying  by  with 
a  rustle  like  goblin  footsteps.  'Twas  true,  then.  She 
can  read  even  the  storms,  that  strange  Woman  from 
Beyond  the  Hills.  Was  it  not  wonderful,  my  mother, 
that  she  should  leave  so  quickly?  Indeed,  I  cannot  tell 
what  way  she  took;  for  there,  before  me,  is  the  wind- 
ing hillside  road  on  which  the  King  always  rides  when 
he  comes  home  to  his  castle,  and  there's  not  a  traveler 
on  it,  though  I  can  see  it  plain. 

Dame  Morna. 

Draw  the  window,  Cubert.  My  heart,  what  a  gust 
that  was!  (A  clap  of  thunder  sounds  without,)  I 
pity  all  those  out  in  such  a  tempest! 

[^  knock  at  the  door. 

Cubert 

(running  to  open  it). 

Perhaps  it  is  she  again! 

[^The  latch  catches,  but,  after  a  moment's  delay, 
the    door    is    opened.     Mabina    and    the 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  23 

Princess  Gwenda  enter  as  if  propelled  by  the 
violence  of  the  storm.  The  Princess  is  a 
very  dear  and  charming  little  girl,  quaintly 
dressed,  Mabina  is  quite  evidently  tart  and 
self-important. 

Mabina. 

Would  you  keep  us  waiting  all  night  in  the  rain? 
That's  a  fine  way  for  beggarly  miner-folk  to  treat  the 
Princess ! 

Dame  Morna 
(dumfounded). 


The  Princess! 


z 


Gwenda 

(with  pretty  eagerness). 

Indeed,  indeed  you  didn't  keep  us  waiting,  and  per- 
haps the  latch  was  heavy.  Some  of  the  castle  bolts  are 
very  hard  to  lift,  I  know.     Fve  heard  Thorwald  say  so. 

Mabina 

Thorwald,  indeed!  Come  to  the  fire,  your  High- 
ness, and  dry  your  cloak,  if  this  miner  lad  will  give  us 
leave  to  pass! 

{^Glares  at  Cubert, 


24  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Dame  Morna. 

Cubert,  my  son,  let  women  have  all  the  room  they 
wish.     I  have  taught  you  so. 

GWENDA 

(seated  at  fire). 

Thank  you,  Cubert,  and  thank  you,  too,  Cubert^s 
mother.     You  are  very  kind. 

Mabina 

(haughtily). 

Kind!  What  else  should  they  be!  It's  an  honor 
to  them  to  have  you!  What  would  the  King  your 
father  say,  if  he  could  see  you  sitting  by  a  hearth  like 
this? 

GwENDA. 

He'd  say  I  was  lucky  to  find  such  a  hearth,  after 
you  broke  his  commands  by  letting  me  be  out  so  far 
from  the  castle  after  dark. 

Mabina 

(half  whimpering). 

Your  Highness  knows  that  I  lost  the  way,  else  your 
Highness  would  be  home,  safe  and  sound,  this  minute. 
Besides,  no  one  saw  us  leave  the  castle,  so  we'll  not  be 
missed. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  25 

GWENDA. 

That*s  all  the  worse,  Mabina.  Now  none  will 
hunt  and  find  us. 

CUBERT. 

Will  your  Highness  taste  a  little  of  my  mother's 
spiced  cordial?  'Twill  make  you  feel  warmer  and 
stronger  after  your  wanderings. 

GwENDA 

(quelling  Mabina  s  objections  with  a  look). 

Thank  you,  Cubert!  (Sips  it,)  It's  very  good. 
And  I've  been  so  cold  and  frightened. 

Cubert. 
Frightened  ? 

GwENDA. 

We  couldn't  find  the  road,  and  the  way  was  so 
rough,  and,  as  night  came  on,  queer  shadowy  things 
looked  at  us  from  behind  the  rocks. 

Mabina. 

Nonsense,  your  Highness. 

GwENDA. 

It  wasn't  nonsense,  Mabina.  I  saw  them  with  my 
own  eyes,  and  I  heard  them  talking  together,  and  one 
of  them  spoke  my  name. 


26  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

CUBERT. 

It  must  have  been  the  gob 

[Sees  his  mother  s  warning  look,  and  checks  him- 
self. 

Mabina 
(dryly). 
Your  Highness  shouldn't  be  afraid  of  the  dark. 

GWENDA. 

Fm  not  afraid  of  the  dark,   Mabina.     You  know 

that;  but  I   am  afraid  of (With  a  cry.)     Oh, 

there's  one  now!     One  of  those  dark  shadowy  things 
that  followed  us.     It's  looking  in  the  window! 

[Goblin  promptly  vanishes,  just  as  Cuhert  starts 
toward  the  window,  pick  in  hand. 

Mabina. 

Her  Highness  is  so  nervous  and  exhausted  she  doesn't 
know  what  she  sees.  Come,  Princess,  drink  a  little 
more  of  the  spiced  cordial;  and  then,  as  soon  as  your 
coat  and  shoes  are  dry,  we'll  start  for  the  castle. 

[Mabina  busies  herself  at  fire,  holding  the  cloak 
near  the  glow  to  warm  it,  while  Cubert  and 
the  Princess  talk. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  27 

CUBERT. 

And  ril  go  with  you  as  far  as  the  castle  gates,  I  and 
my  miner's  lantern. 

GWENDA 

(looking  at  it  with  interest). 

Is  that  it?  I've  often  longed  to  see  a  miner's  lantern. 
Things  men  work  with  are  so  wonderful  to  a  Princess. 

CuBERT. 

Not  half  so  wonderful  as  a  Princess  is  to  men  who 
really  work. 

GwENDA 

(wistfully). 

I  wish  you  could  see  me  oftener,  Cubert.  Fm  some- 
times very  lonely  at  the  castle.  I  have  no  mother,  as 
you  have,  and  there's  no  one  young  to  talk  to  in  all  the 
great  house. 

Cubert. 

But  how  can  I  come  to  see  you,  Princess,  when  I 
am  only  a  miner  boy,  and  you  are  a  Royal  Highness? 

GwENDA 

(innocently). 

What  difference  can  that  make,  Cubert?  (Look- 
ing with  interest  at  his  tools.)     Is  that  your  pickax? 


28  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

IVe  often  heard  my  father  say  that  without  a  pickax 
there  would  be  no  crown. 


CUBERT 

(pleased). 
Does  your  father  say  that? 

GWENDA 

(looking     straight     before     her,     and     talking     very 
earnestly). 

He  says  that  a  pickax  means  more  than  any  scepter; 
because  things  men  work  with  are  wonderful  and 
splendid. 

CuBERT 
(delightedly,  looking  at  his  pickax). 
Then  I've  a  scepter  .  .  .  and  a  ring! 

GWENDA. 

A  ring? 

CuBERT. 

It  was  given  me  to-day  by  a  strange  old  woman  who 
called  herself  The  Woman  from  Beyond  the  Hills. 
And  she  said  if  ever  I  were  in  danger,  to  keep  my 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  29 

face  towards  my  fear,  and  that  the  ring — ^her  ring — 
would  show  me  the  way  to  safety ! 

Mabina 

(turning  from  fire,  cloak  in  hand). 

Your  Highnesses  cloak  is  dry  at  last,  the  storm  is 
cleared,  and  'tis  time  we  were  going. 

[^The  Princess  puts  on  her  cloak,  and  then,  at- 
tracted by  Dame  Morna's  wheel,  goes  over 
to  it.  They  talk  in  pantomime,  Cubert  and 
Mabina  are  by  the  fire, 

Mabina 

(snappishly). 

You  need  not  light  your  lantern,  young  sir,  for  we 
shall  not  need  your  assistance. 

Cubert 
(quietly  lighting  his  lantern). 
Perhaps  youM  prefer  the  goblins*  company  to  mine. 

Mabina 

(contemptuously). 

Goblins!  (With  an  apprehensive  glance  at 
Gwenda.)  S-sh!  Don't  let  the  Princess  hear  you! 
She's  frightened  enough  as  it  is,  of  every  shadow  wcVe 


30  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

seen  along  the  way.  Goblins,  indeed!  There's  no 
such  thing  in  the  world.  Why  don't  you  put  up  your 
lantern,  miner's  boy? 

CUBERT. 

Because  I  and  my  lantern  are  needed,  so,  whether 
you  like  it  or  not,  I'm  going  to  see  the  Princess  safely 
to  the  castle  gates.  (To  Gwenda,)  Come,  your  High- 
ness. 

GWENDA. 

Good-night,  Dame  Morna. 

Dame  Morna. 
Good-night,  Princess. 

GwENDA. 

May  I  truly  say  good-night,  dear  mother  of  Cubert? 
May  I  kiss  you  ? 

Dame  Morna 

(moved). 

With  all  my  heart!  (Kisses  her,)  Good-night,  and 
Heaven  keep  you,  lonely  little  girl ! 

\_Exeunt  Gw  en  da  and  Mabina. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  31 

Dame  Morna. 
YouVe  going,  Cubert  ? 

CUBERT 

(lingering). 

As  far  as  the  castle  gates,  my  mother.  And,  after 
that,  a-visiting  the  goblins.  I  must  know  what's  a-foot 
to-night. 

Dame  Morna. 
Remember  your  ring,  Cubert. 

Cubert. 

Yes,  mother.  And  111  face  my  fear!  Coming, 
Princess ! 

[Exit. 

Dame  Morna 

(looking  after  them). 

Blessings  on  her  gentle  little  Highness,  and  on  my 
own  dear  boy! 

[The  faint  mysterious  music  of  The  Woman 
froTii  Beyond  the  Hills  sounds  as  the  curtain 
falls. 


32  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Scene  II 

An  hour  later.  The  goblins'  forge  room,  A  vaulted 
underground  chamber  of  stone,  the  walls  and  back- 
ground of  which  are  jagged  rock. 

At  the  leftj  towards  the  foreground,  a  jutting  boul- 
der, sloping  to  a  point  large  enough  to  hide  from  view 
any  one  crouching  or  standing  behind  it.  Toward  the 
left  background  the  rocks  divide  and  form  a  passage- 
way through  which  the  goblins  enter  and  re-enter. 

In  the  center  of  the  stage  a  rude  forge  with  embers 
a- glow  beneath  it. 

The  curtain  rises  on  a  scene  of  great  animation. 
Goblins  are  swarming  to  and  fro  across  the  stage,  while 
Troll  hammers  at  the  forge  on  what  look  to  be 
grotesque  imitations  of  miner  s  tools.  The  shadows  of 
the  goblins  leap  fantastically  in  the  red  fire-glow.  They 
are  eerie  creatures,  with  active,  twisted  bodies,  and 
faces  curiously  gnarled  and  old.  For  a  moment  after 
the  curtain  rises  there  is  no  sound  save  the  ringing  blows 
on  the  forge.  All  the  rest  is  in  pantomime.  As  soon 
as  the  tools  quit  the  forge  the  goblins  hurry  off,  left, 
with  them. 

Troll 

(at  forge). 

Bring  me  the  bellows,  Ratkin!  Be  quick  with  the 
picks,    Mottlesnout!     Hurry!     Skurry!     This    is    no 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  33 

time  for  idling.  Since  we  have  no  tools  such  as  miners 
use,  we  must  weld  our  own.  (Hammers  fiercely  for  a 
moment,  and  then  pauses.)  King  Shadowcob  will  be 
here  presently  to  see  how  the  work  goes  forward,  and 
it  will  be  ill  for  us  if  he  finds  our  hands  are  lagging  or 
our  tools  unmade. 

KOLL. 

My  pick  will  bear  his  Majesty's  inspection! 

MOTTLESNOUT. 

My  crowbar  would  rend  a  granite  wall! 

Ratkin 

( yawning) » 

My  arms  ache  with  hammering,  and  the  heat  of  the 
fire  makes  me  drowsy. 

\^He  sits  sleepily  at  left  foreground,  leaning 
against  the  rocky  wall. 

KOLL. 

I  don*t  wonder  he's  drowsy,  he's  such  a  glutton. 
There's  not  a  goblin  dainty  that  he  can  ever  let  pass. 

[Goblins  laugh.  Troll  continues  to  hammer 
briskly,  in  pantomime,  Koll  goes  to  right 
foreground,  where  a  group  of  goblins  have 


34  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

paused  a  moment  to  glance  at  Mole's  Ear, 
who  is  busily  employed  with  a  large  flagon 
and  a  fantastic  goblet.  Into  the  flagon  he 
is  squeezing  grapes, 

KOLL 
(briskly). 
What  are  you  doing,  Mole's  Ear? 

Mole's  Ear. 

Making  wine,  my  brother,  goblin  wine.  Fen  grapes 
have  I  used  and  the  slimy  roots  of  things  that  grow 
beneath  the  ground.  And  many  another  thing  that 
thrives  in  the  dark,  my  brother.  'Tis  a  rare  draught. 
At  times  of  ceremony  we  shall  use  it. 

KOLL 

(crossing  to  where  CI  aw  foot  in  the  extreme  left  fore- 

ground    is    showing    to    another    goblin    a 

darkly    glittering   throne   robe). 

What  are  you  doing,  Clawfoot  ? 

Clawfoot 

(indicating  first  a  small  loom  which  the  goblin  who 

was  talking  to  htm  holds j  and  then 

proudly  holding  up  the  robe). 

Weaving  a  throne  robe,  my  brother,  spangled  with 
crystals  that  lie  where  underground  springs  run  blackly. 


i 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  35 

(Turns  robe  so  that  it  catches  new  glimmers  of  light 
from  the  forge  fire,)  Does  it  not  shimmer  darkly? 
It  is  a  robe  of  state ! 

[Goblins  with  robe  and  goblet  disperse.     The 
I  forge  remains  the  center  of  activity, 

Ratkin 

(starting  from  his  drowsy  posture). 

I  hear  the  sound  of  some  one  moving  stones  up  above 
us! 

Troll 

(ceasing  his  pantomimic  hammering). 

Teach  your  ears  better  wisdom,  Ratkin.  (Ratkin 
begins  to  work  bellows,)  'Tis  but  the  rushing  of  the 
■  river  swollen  by  the  Spring  rains,  or  some  belated 
miner  wandering  aboveground  with  his  lantern,  and 
little  dreaming  what  merry  work  is  a-doing  beneath  his 
thick  heels. 

[The  hammering  begins  again,  loudly,  with 
pauses  of  utter  silence  during  which  can  be 
heard  the  strokes  of  Cubert's  pick  up  above, 

KOLL 

(to  goblins  in  background). 

Faster!     Faster!     Rest  not  an  instant.     The  King 
will  soon  be  here. 


36  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Troll 
(at  forge). 
Blow  the  sparks  for  me,  Ratkin ! 

Ratkin. 

Let  Mottlesnout  hold  the  bellows.     I  am  so  weary 
I  can  no  longer  move  my  arms. 

[Flings  himself  by  rock,  left,  and  dozes. 

Troll.  \ 

Take  his  place,  Mottlesnout,  and  let  him  rest;  for 
he  has  served  us  well. 

\ 

Mottlesnout.  i 

I  wish  we  had  the  arts  of  those  hateful  miner-folk. 
Then  our  picks  and  crowbars  would  be  as  fine  as  theirs. 

KOLL. 

Patience,  Mottlesnout.     Our  time  is  coming. 

[Enter  Slumpkin,  left. 

Troll  j 

(seeing  him). 

Come,  blow  the  sparks  for  me,  Slumpkin.     Where 
have  you  been  so  long? 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  37 

Slumpkin. 

Out  on  the  hills,  Troll,  out  on  the  hills.  The 
Princess  strayed  from  the  castle  and  lost  her  way. 
We  followed  her,  Shag  and  I ;  but  she  fled  from  us  and 
called  us  dreadful  shadows. 

Troll 
(with  malicious  delight). 
She'll  feel  the  hands  of  us  shadows  presently. 

MOTTLESNOUT. 

Aye,  that  she  will ! 

KOLL. 

Why  didn't  you  seize  her,  Slumpkin,  and  carry  her 
off? 

Slumpkin. 

Aboveground  ?  With  the  miner-folk  likely  to  appear 
at  any  moment?  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  that,  good 
Troll ;  not  I !  What  a  wise  goblin  steals  is  stolen  by 
night,  and  silently.  The  sunlight  people  love  the 
brightness  of  the  day,  but  we  are  of  the  dark,  and  in  the 
dark  our  deeds  thrive  best. 

MOTTLESNOUT. 

Aye,  for  none  know  of  our  deeds  save  the  rats  in 
the  castle  cellars,  and  the  rats  are  dumb! 


38  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

KOLL 

(coming  down  from  the  back  of  the  stage). 
Goblins,  our  King  is  coming  at  last! 


The  King! 


All. 


[General  tumult  of  preparation. 


Troll. 
Drop  work  and  let  us  meet  him. 

MOTTLESNOUT. 

Aye,  let  us  give  him  the  greeting  he  deserves !   Come, 
Ratkin! 

[Rouses  the  sleeping  goblin. 

Ratkin 

(following  staggeringly  as  he  rubs  his  eyes). 

Even  in  my  sleep  I  heard  the  sound  of  some  one 
moving  rocks  up  above  us! 

[The  goblins  rush  out,  left,  leaving  their  tools 
behind  them.  A  moment  later  Cubert  forces 
his  way  through  an  opening  in  the  rock,  at 
left  foreground,  and,  running  to  the  center 
of  the  stage,  looks  about  him  wonderingly. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  39 

CUBERT. 

Is  this,  indeed,  the  place?  (Looks  up,)  So  dark! 
So  dim!  (Runs,  peering  right  and  left.)  And  with 
so  many  winding  passages!  How  strange  and  still  it 
is!  And  how  the  shadows  dance!  Here  are  the  gob- 
lins' tools;  but  where  are  the  goblins?  There's  not  a 
sign  of  them,  and  yet  this  is  their  forge  room,  I  know, 
for  only  a  moment  since  I  heard  them  hammering  and 
talking. 

MOTTLESNOUT 

(speaking  in  the  passage j  left). 
Way  for  his  Majesty!     Room  for  King  Shadowcob! 

CuBERT. 

Hark!     I  hear  them  coming! 

[^He  runs  behind  boulder  that  juts  into  the  right 
foreground,  and  crouches  there,  perfectly 
screened  from  view.  King  Shadowcob  en- 
ters from  left  background,  attended  by  all 
the  goblins  grotesquely  bowing  and  capering. 

Troll 

(as  goblins  bring  tools  for  inspection). 

Behold  our  work,  your  Majesty!  Not  a  pick  but 
what  is  as  sharp  as  "hand  can  make  it;  not  a  crowbar 


40  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

or  gimlet  but  what  is  ready  to  work  your  will,  and 
teach  the  castle-folk  the  meaning  of  goblin  cunning. 

King  Shadowcob. 

Well  spoken,  Troll,  and  like  a  true  earth  child. 
Goblins,  is  all  in  readiness? 

KOLL. 

All  is  in  readiness,  your  Majesty.  Our  labors  are 
at  an  end.  The  secret  passage  which  we  have  hewn 
through  the  rocks  and  which  leads  from  our  council 
hall  to  King  Radnor's  castle,  is  at  last  complete,  and 
to-day,  while  the  Princess  roamed  the  hills,  our  valiant 
Mottlesnout  made  an  opening  in  the  wall  of  her  room. 

CUBERT 

(in  an  outraged  voice,  the  cry  escaping  from  him). 
Oh! 


Who  spoke? 


King  Shadowcob 
(turning), 

KoLL. 


'Twas  nought  but  Ratkin,  your  Majesty.     He  Is  al- 
ways drowsing  and  talking  in  his  sleep. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  41 

King  Shadowcob 

(indignantly). 

This  IS  no  time  for  slumber!  Now  or  never  we 
must  act,  and  act  quickly.  King  Radnor  is  away,  the 
miners  are  weary  with  blasting,  and  the  foolish  castle- 
folk  unmindful  of  what  we  goblins  plan.  Shoulder 
your  tools,  and  let  us  make  what  speed  we  can  to  our 
council  hall,  and  from  thence  to  the  castle  cellars. 
There  we  will  wait  our  time  till  the  clock  strikes  mid- 
night  

KOLL 

(half 'breathless  with   delight). 
And  then 

King  Shadowcob. 

Then  we  will  creep  like  rats  up  from  the  castle  cel- 
lars through  the  castle  tower,  push  back  the  panel 
that  leads  to  the  room  of  the  Princess,  and  her  Royal 
Highness  will  be  ours. 

Ratkin. 

Aye,  but  what  if  the  King's  guards  should  discover 
us? 

King  Shadowcob 

(frowning), 

A  foolish  question,  Ratkin.  There's  not  a  guard  that 
knows  of  the  secret  panel  we  have  cut,  and  only  goblins 


42  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

or  moles  could  crawl  through  the  passage  we  have 
made.  (As  he  speaks  goblins  gather  round  him). 
And  if  more  than  goblins  or  moles  crawl  through,  have 
we  not  a  remedy  ?  The  river  is  higher  this  Spring  than 
ever  before.  Already  it  has  overflowed  its  banks.  Even 
now,  if  you  listen,  you  can  hear  it  rushing  up  above 
you.  If  courtiers  or  miners  should  follow  us,  we  will 
break  in  the  walls  of  our  secret  passage,  and  the  water 
from  above  will  rush  in  and  fill  it.  The  river  will 
sweep  through  our  tunnel  to  the  castle  cellars.  It  will 
fill  even  our  council  hall.  The  entrance  to  this  forge 
room  might  be  found;  the  entrance  to  our  council  hall 
is  past  mortal  finding! 

Ratkin. 

Ayt,  but  what  of  us,  if  the  river  should  enter  the 
hall? 

King  Shadowcob 

(impatiently). 

Are  there  not  caverns  far  beneath  that  hall  where 
we  can  hide  in  safety  till  those  who  hunt  for  us  are 
drowned  ? 

MOTTLESNOUT. 

True,  true,  your  Majesty! 

KOLL. 

Ratkin  talks  like  a  blinking  owl! 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  43 

Slumpkin 

(suddenly  breaking  silence), 

I  would  liefer  have  an  owl  than  her  Royal  High- 
ness. 

King  Shadowcob 

(glowering  at  him). 

When  she  is  old  enough  you  are  to  marry  the 
Princess. 

Slumpkin. 

But,  father,  the  Princess  is  not  sweet  or  comely.  I 
would  I  might  marry  some  one  beautiful — as  we  are! 

King  Shadowcob 

(angrily). 

You'll  marry  whom  I  say,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for 
you.  The  Princess  is  the  wife  for  you,  and  none  other. 
It  is  she  who  will  teach  us  all  the  arts  of  the  sunlight 
people,  so  that,  in  the  end,  we  shall  be  as  powerful  as 
they.  Some  day  you  will  rule  over  your  own  kingdom, 
and  theirs,  too. 

Troll. 

Your  Majesty,  IVe  heard  that  the  sunlight  people 
are  very  soft-hearted.  When  they  are  sorrowful,  salt 
water  trickles  out  of  their  eyes.  What  of  the  little 
Princess? 


44  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

King  Shadowcob. 

Who  will  hear  her  cries,  once  she  is  safely  under- 
ground? The  castle  folk  will  clamor  and  search  in 
vain!  Our  revenge  will  be  complete.  Day  by  day 
we  are  driven  deeper  into  the  earth;  but  the  sunlight 
people  have  not  reckoned  with  goblin  cunning.  The 
King^s  miners  burrow  into  our  dwelling,  but  we  shall 
burrow  into  the  King's! 

All  Goblins 

(fiercely  jubilant). 
Aha! 

King  Shadowcob. 

Come,  goblins!  The  hours  fly  fast!  Bring  torches, 
Mottlesnout !  Go,  Slumpkin,  and  lead  the  way! 
Carry  your  pick,  Ratkin,  lest  the  passage  be  over  nar- 
row. Leave  your  forge  fire,  TroU.  We  shall  not 
need  its  embers.  Onward,  good  goblins,  onward! 
This  night  the  Princess  shall  be  ours. 

[^Exeunt  all  the  goblins,  left, 

CUBERT 

(clambering  with  all  haste  from  his  hiding-place). 

Yours  ?  Never  while  I  have  a  tongue  to  speak,  or  a 
foot  on  which  to  stand! 

CURTAIN 


ACT  II 

The  bedroom  of  the  Princess  Gwenda,  luxurious  in 
pale  blue.  Panels  of  dark  wood.  In  background, 
towards  right,  dark  panels  running  half  the  length  of 
the  room.  Towards  the  left  a  long  narrow  window, 
latticed  and  swinging  inward.  On  each  side  of  it  hang- 
ings of  pale-blue  brocade  reaching  from  floor  to  ceiling. 
The  window  is  open,  giving  a  glimpse  of  a  fine  moonlit 
night.     Dark  hills  are  etched  against  the  sky. 

Near  the  wall,  left,  a  canopied  bed,  very  quaint  and 
narrow.  Its  head  is  towards  the  window.  On  the 
floor  before  it  a  white  fur  rug.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed 
a  door  leading  into  other  rooms  of  the  castle.  Near 
the  door  a  dressing-table  with  silver  boxes,  a  jeweled 
hair-brush. 

At  the  right  another  door  opening  into  the  room 
beyond.  Against  the  right  wall,  near  foreground,  a 
carved  seat. 

Suspended  from  the  ceiling,  right,  a  beautifully  ham- 
mered gong. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  Aide  and  Mabina  are 
turning  down  the  coverlet  and  straightening  the  silver 
boxes  on  the  dressing-table,  on  which  candles  are 
a- gleam.  Aide  is  a  pretty  pink-cheeked  maid-in-wait- 
ing, quite  evidently  in  awe  of  the  imperious  Mabina. 

45 


46  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Alcie 

(pausing  by  window), 

'Tis  a  fine  moonlit  night  after  the  rain,  and  I  can 
see  Thorwald  the  guard  pacing  to  and  fro  in  the  court- 
yard beneath  me,  and  beyond  him  the  trees  of  the 
garden.  How  the  river  is  rtishing  down  the  mountain 
after  the  storm!  It  must  be  near  to  overflowing  its 
banks;  for  I  can  hear  the  sound  of  it  from  here. 
(Leaves  window,)  Where  were  you  during  the  shower, 
Mabina? 

Marina 

(haughtily). 

Where  should  I  be? 

Alcie. 

I  could  not  find  you,  although  I  looked  for  you  and 
the  Princess  high  and  low. 

Mabina. 

The  castle  has  more  rooms  than  one,  and  people  are 
always  to  be  found  by  those  who  use  their  eyes.  Have 
you  laid  out  her  Highness's  sleeping-wrap?  'Tis  long 
past  her  Highness's  bed  time. 

Alcie. 

And  she  seemed  tired  to-night,  the  dear  little 
Princess!  She  looked  quite  flushed  as  she  ate  her  sup- 
per, and  she  asked  me  the  strangest  questions. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  .47 

Mabina 
(uneasily). 
Questions? 

Alcie. 

She  wanted  to  know  if  I  had  ever  been  beyond  the 
castle  gates  at  nightfall,  and  if  I  had  ever  seen  queer 
shadowy  creatures  following  me  as  I  went.  'Tis  some 
strange  idea  she  has  got  from  having  no  other  children 
to  play  with,  and  truly  this  castle  is  a  lonely  enough 
place  with  King  Radnor  ever  traveling  to  other  parts 
of  his  kingdom  that  he  may  see  justice  done  to  all  his 
subjects  equally.  It's  small  wonder  that  the  little 
Princess  has  such  curious  fancies. 

Mabina. 

And  you  listened  to  her  fancies,  Alcie?  There  are 
some  that  will  never  learn  wisdom ! 

Alcie 
(humbly). 
I  am  sure  I  did  not  mean 

Mabina 

(witheringly). 

Did  not  mean!  Take  this  candlestick,  Alcie,  and 
look  where  you  are  going!    (Exit  Alcicj  left.)    Didn't 


48  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

mean!  (Airily.)  Unless  I  stay  by  the  Princess  every 
moment,  these  maids-in-waitIng  will  be  putting  more 
fancies  into  her  head  by  listening  to  the  ones  she  has 
already. 

[Exit  Mabina,  left,  just  as  Cubert  bursts  in, 
right,  and  darts  behind  hangings  at  window, 
Gundred,  Thorwald  and  Solberg  hard  at  his 
heels.  During  the  ensuing  colloquy  the 
space  at  left  gradually  fills  with  listening 
castle  folk,  maids-in-waiting  and  men-at- 
arms. 

Gundred. 
He  went  this  way,  I  tell  you ! 

Thorwald. 

Aye,  I  saw  him  myself.  (Pulls  back  curtain,  and 
wrenches  Cubert  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  where 
the  miner  lad,  slender  and  young  as  he  is,  seems  all  the 
more  boyish  as  compared  to  the  broad-shouldered  guards 
who  surround  him.)  Stand  forth,  young  miner,  or 
now  that  I  hold  you  it  will  go  hard  with  you. 

[Mabina  and  Aide,  alarmed  at  the  clamor, 
enter  from  left.  Aide  taking  the  precaution 
to  close  the  door  behind  her. 

Mabina. 

Would  you  rouse  the  castle  with  your  uproar? 
What  is  the  meaning  of  this? 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  49 

Thorwald 

(shaking  Cubert), 

It  means  that  this  young  whelp  of  a  miner's  boy  has 
returned  a  second  time.  Once  before  I  bade  him 
begone,  and  sent  him  from  the  castle  gates,  but  now 
he  returns  and  forces  his  way  into  the  very  castle  itself. 
He  says  that  he  must  see  the  Princess,  and  talks  to  us 
wildly  of  goblins  and  council  halls. 

Alcie. 
Who  ever  heard  the  like! 

GUNDRED. 

The  boy  is  crazed. 

CUBERT 

,  (passionately), 

*Tis  you  who  are  crazed,  because  you  will  not  listen. 
I  tell  you  that  this  very  night  the  goblins  mean  to  steal 
the  Princess.  They  have  hewn  a  passage  into  the  castle 
cellar — a  passage  that  leads  to  the  Princess's  very  room. 

SOLBERG. 

I  said  his  brains  were  misty!  For  though  'tis  ru- 
mored that  after  nightfall  the  mines  are  filled  with 
strange  misshapen  creatures,  they'd  never  dare  ap- 
proach so  near  the  castle. 


50  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Thorwald. 

The  miner  lad  talks  folly.  'Tis  some  strange  dream 
he  has  had  while  working  underground. 

CUBERT 

(beseechingly  to  Mabina), 

Oh,  speak  for  me!     You  know  I  would  not  lie! 

Mabina. 
Indeed,   I  know  nothing  of  the  sort! 

CuBERT 

(imploringly  to  guards). 

Oh,  will  you  not  listen !  *Tis  but  a  short  time  since 
I  left  the  goblins'  council  hall,  and  heard  them  plot- 
ting. 

Thorwald 
(brusquely). 

Enough!     'Tis  plain  to  see  that  the  lad  has  lost  his 

wits. 

Mabina. 

Aye,  and  a  fine  sight  he'd  be  if  the  Princess  should 
come  in  suddenly  and  find  him  here!  What  more  you 
have  to  say  can  be  said  to  him  below  in  the  courtyard. 
I'll  not  have  her  Highness  disturbed  by  a  roomful  of 
people,  each  talking  louder  than  the  other. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  51 

CUBERT 

(imploringly J  as  Gundred  lays  hands  on  him). 

If  you  will  not  believe  me,  let  me  but  speak  to  the 
Princess — only  one  word. 

Mabina. 

YouVe  said  words  in  plenty,  and  great  good  they 
have  done !  (Haughtily,  to  the  guards.)  Will  you  be 
o£E  to  the  courtyard,  or  shall  the  King  know  how  his 
guards  wrangle  in  the  Princesses  room? 

SOLBERG. 

Gently,  gently.  Madam  Wasp's  Nest!  We  meant 
no  wrong!  Look  to  the  lad,  Gundred,  and  see  that 
he  does  not  escape  us  a  second  time.  Let  the  night- 
watch  keep  him  in  the  courtyard  till  daylight  comes. 
The  dawn  will  cool  his  fever. 

[The  guards  during  Solberg's  speech  have  taken 
Cubert  through  the  door  at  right,  although 
he  protests  in  passionate  dumb-show.  The 
castle  folk  exeunt  right  and  left,  and  Ma- 
bina and  Aide  are  left  alone. 

Alcie 

(standing  by  the  window,  and  speaking  half-uneasily). 

What  if  it  were  truth  that  the  lad  spoke,  Mabina? 
All  the  miner-folk  believe  that  there  are  goblins. 


52  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Mabina. 

Are  we  miner-folk  to  listen  to  such  tales?  Where 
is  the  lad  now? 

Alcie 

(at  window). 

They  have  brought  him  to  the  courtyard.  He  is 
standing  there  now,  with  his  face  turned  towards  this 
window. 

Mabina. 

*Tis  a  light  punishment,  that,  to  be  kept  there  in  the 
courtyard.  But  'twill  teach  him  a  lesson  when  he 
stands  there  all  the  hours  through. 

Alcie. 
I  wonder  if 

Mabina 
(as  a  step  is  heard  outside  the  door  at  left). 
Hush!     Here's  the  Princess. 

GWENDA 

(entering,  left,  a  pale-blue  silken  robe  over  her  night- 
robe,  pale-blue  slippers). 

Are  you  and  Alcie  alone  ?  A  moment  ago  I  thought 
I  heard  several  voices. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  53 

Mabina. 

It  might  have  been  the  guards,  your  Highness. 
They  were  talking  outside  in  the  hall.  (In  alarm  as 
Princess  moves  towards  the  window,)  Come  from  the 
window,  your  Highness,  the  night  air  is  chill. 

[Exit  Aide,  left. 

GWENDA. 

But  the  outdoors  is  so  wonderful,  Mabina,  with  the 
dew  and  the  darkness,  and  the  night  wind  sighing  in 
the  trees.  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  lived  in  a  little  house  like 
Cubert's,  and  not  in  this  great  lonely  castle. 

[Sits  to  have  her  hair  brushed. 

Mabina. 

(practically). 
Then  you  couldn't  be  a  Princess,  your  Highness. 

GWENDA. 

Oh,  yes,  I  could,  Mabina.  My  father  says  that 
every  little  girl  is  a  Princess — every  little  girl  who 
tries  to  be  gentle  and  courteous  and  kind.  It  isn't  what 
she  wears  on  her  back  that  makes  her  a  Princess:  it's 
what  she  wears  in  her  heart.  And  since  Cubert  has  a 
kind  heart,  and  is  always  trying  to  do  things  for  other 
people,  he  is  really  a  Prince,  just  as  much  as  I  am  a 
Princess,  don't  you  see  ? 


54  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Mabina. 

No,  I  dont  see,  and  I  must  say  that  I  think  what 
your  Highness  is  saying  sounds  like  great  nonsense. 

GWENDA. 

Ah,  that's  what  you  said  about  those  queer  shadowy 
things  that  followed  us  after  sundown,  and  yet  I  saw 
them  as  plainly  as  I  see  you. 

Mabina. 

Don't  speak  of  shadows,  your  Highness.  If  you 
think  of  them,  you'll  be  apt  to  dream. 

GwENDA. 

Oh,  no,  I  won't,  Mabina.  And,  besides,  I'm  not 
afraid.  Nothing  could  reach  me  here.  And  then 
there  is  the  great  gong  over  by  the  wall.  I've  only  to 
strike  that  and  all  the  castle  people  will  come  running. 

Mabina 
(more  gently). 
So  they  will,  dear  Princess.     I  had  forgotten  that. 

GWENDA. 

I  only  wish,  Mabina,  that  my  father  would  come 
home  to-night.     He's  been  away  so  long,  and  it's  almost 


\ 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  55 

time  he  was  back  again.  You  know  he  often  travels  by 
moonlight.  If  he  does  come,  you'll  be  sure  and  call  me, 
won't  you,  Mabina? 

[Getting  into  bed. 

Mabina. 

Yes,  your  Highness. 

GWENDA. 

No  matter  how  late  it  is? 

Mabina. 
No  matter  how  late  it  is. 

GwENDA 

(yawning). 
That's  a  good  Mabina.     Oh,  I  am  so  sleepy! 

Mabina 

(really  sweetly  for  her). 
Would  your  Highness  like  me  to  sit  by  you? 

GWENDA 

(very  drowsily). 

Why,  no,  of  course  not   Mabina.     Won't — you — be 

— near — me — in — the — next — room ? 

[Falls  asleep. 


S6  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Mabina 

(laying    out   shoes   and   stockings). 

And  which  will  she  want  to  wear  to-morrow,  I  won- 
der. Her  green  gown,  or  her  blue?  Princess!  (A 
little  louder,)  Princess!  She's  so  fast  asleep  she 
doesn't  even  hear  me!  She'll  rest  soundly  after  her 
long  wandering  this  afternoon.  (Yawns,)  Well,  'tis 
almost  midnight,  and  the  rest  of  the  castle  is  a-bed. 
'Tis  time  I  was  dreaming  (stretches)  as  soon  as  I  have  ' 
seen  Alcie,  and  laid  out  the  Princess's  gowns. 

[Blows  out  candles,  taking  one  with  her  as  she 
exits  left.  The  Princess  sleeps.  Moonlight 
steals  in  the  window,  flooding  the  room  with 
faint  radiance,  A  pause,  A  goblin  pushes 
back  a  panel  of  the  wall  in  the  right  back- 
ground, and  peers  cautiously  in.  Then  he 
enters  on  tiptoe,  and,  as  he  lifts  his  face  in 
the  moonlight,  it  is  seen  that  he  is  Ratkin, 
In  the  panel  behind  him  stands  Mottlesnout, 

MOTTLESNOUT. 

Is  It  sure  she's  asleep  ? 

Ratkin. 
Quite  sure. 

Mottlesnout 
(cautiously  entering). 
And  there's  no  one  stirring? 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  57 

Ratkin.      X 
No  one. 

King  Shadowcob 

(appearing  at  panel,  entering,  and  then  directing  gob- 
lins who  follow  him). 

Quickly,  there,  to  your  work.     Keep  guard.  Slump- 
kin. 

l^The  goblins  quickly  surround  the  bed,  and  lift 
up  the  Princess,  who  lies  on  a  slip  mattress 
placed  over  the  real  one.  As  this  slip 
mattress  is  carried  down  the  passage,  the 
little  Princess  looks  very  small  and  hud- 
dled. She  sleeps  soundly  and  does  not 
waken.  Troll  lags  behind,  Ratkin  re- 
appears through  panel. 

Troll. 
Is  all  safe,  Ratkin? 

Ratkin. 

Airs  safe,  and  the  Princess  has  not  yet  wakened. 

Troll. 
What  will  she  do  for  more  clothes  ? 

[Shag  reappears  from  panel. 


58  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Ratkin 

(directing  Shag), 

There  are  more  on  that  chair.  A  dress  and  a  cloak. 
Go  take  them. 

[Shag  steals  up  to  chair,  left,  just  as  M^bina 
enters  by  the  left  door,  shielding  her  candle- 
flame  with  her  hand,  and  not  looking 
towards  the  bed. 

Mabina 

(speaking  over  her  shoulder  to  Aide). 

Tread  softly,  Alcie,  and  make  no  noise!  (Draught 
blows  out  candle,)     What's  the 

[Hears  rustle  by  bed,  where  Shag  As  trying  to 
creep  by  unnoticed.  Turns,  facing  door  left, 
sees  him,  shrieks,  drops  candlestick,  in  mo- 
mentary terror  claps  hands  across  her  eyes 
as  if  to  dispel  the  vision.  Meanwhile  Rat- 
kin  and  Troll  disappear  through  panel. 
Shag  rushing  madly  after  them. 

Mabina 

(shaken  with   terror). 

Oh,  It  was  something  alive,  it  was  something  more 
than  a  shadow!  (Looks  towards  bed.)  Her  High- 
ness!    Where    is    her    Highness?     (Alcie    enters    as 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  .59 

Mabina  runs  to  gong  and  begins  to  strike  it,)     Oh, 
rouse  the  guardsmen!  (' 

Alcie 

(also  terrified). 

What  IS  It,  Mabina? 

Attendants. 
(entering  hurriedly,  left). 
What  1$  It? 

Mabina 
(wildly,  as  the  stage  fills  with  clamor  and  excitement). 

The  boy  spoke  truth!  The  boy  spoke  truth!  The 
goblins  have  stolen  the  Princess!  There — there  is  the 
panel  by  which  the  goblins  entered! 

Thorwald 

(excitedly). 

There  is,  indeed,  an  opening!  It  gives  beneath  my 
touch.     The  torch,  there,  Gundred. 

\^They  look  at  passageway  leading  down  from 
panel, 

Alcie 
(hysterically). 

The  miner  lad  spoke  truly.  The  Princess  is  gone, 
and  she  could  not  have  passed  through  the  halls  with- 
out our  seeing. 


6o  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Thorwald. 

Be  still!  Be  still!  (To  guards.)  See,  there^s  a 
passage  hewn  to  this  very  chamber.  Down,  then,  to 
the  rescue!     We  will  follow! 

IGundred  starts  to  descend. 


SOLBERG. 

Gundred  sticks  fast!     A  curse  on  our  broad  shoul- 
ders!    The  passage  is  too  narrow.     We  must  blast  it. 


Mabina 

(at  left  of  stage,  standing  alone  save  for  Alciej  to  whom 
she  speaks). 

Run !     Fetch  the  boy  from  the  courtyard !     Oh,  if  I 
had  but  listened! 

[Exit  Aide  hurriedly,  left.  Hubbub  of  voices 
as  guards  hurry  to  work:  "  The  cellar! 
Blasting  powder!     Rouse  the  miners!'' 


Mabina 

(tensely  to  herself,  her  hands  clasped). 
The  Princess!     The  Princess! 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  6i 

Thorwald 

(directing  groups  and  individuals). 

Strike   the    great    gong   in   the   courtyard!     Quick, 
signal  fires.     Speed  messengers! 

[General  stir  and  preparation,     Cubert  enters, 
left,  followed  by  Aide. 

Mabina 

(running  to  him). 

Oh,  miner  lad,  forgive  me,  and  think  quickly!     The 
passage  is  too  narrow  for  the  guardsmen! 

Cubert 
(rushing  to  panel). 
But  not  for  me!     I'm  goblin-sized,  Mabina. 

SOLBERG. 

We  are  to  blast  it. 

Thorwald 

(to  Gundred). 

Then  bid  them  stay  the  blasting  till  the  lad  has  time 
to  reach  the  goblins. 

{Exit  Gundred,  left. 


62  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

SOLBERG 
(doubtfully).     ^ 
What  will  a  mere  lad  do  against  so  many? 

CUBERT 

(standing  at  the  panel,  facing  audience,  his  face  up- 
raised  and  shining,  his  voice  a-thrill). 

What  will  the  Princess  do  amongst  so  many  unless 
one  voice  shall  tell  her  help  is  coming? 

[^He  goes  down  the  passage. 

Alcie 

(passionately;  hands  clasped). 

Oh,  speed  that  help!     Comfort  the  little  Princess! 

[Mabina  has  darted  to  window  at  left  back^ 
ground,  and  stands  there  for  an  instant. 
Through  the  window  are  seen  signal  lights 
darting  into  flame  along  the  dark  ridges  of 
the  hills,  Sound  of  a  gong  struck  in  the 
courtyard  below,  swift  and  insistent.  New 
lights  continually  spring  into  being  on  the 
dark  hillsides.  It  is  evident  that  the  news  is 
spreading. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  63 

Mabina 

(her  voice  a  clear  cry). 

The  countryside  is  rousing!     Look!     Look!     The 
signal  fires! 

QUICK  CURTAIN 


ACT  III 

Scene  I 

The  goblins'  council  hall,  a  short  time  past  midnight. 
It  is  an  underground  chamber  closely  resembling  the 
forge  room  in  that  it  is  all  of  jagged  rock.  Iron  lamps 
are  fitted  into  the  wall.     They  give  a  dullish  glow. 

In  the  center  background  a  rude  throne  of  rock,  and 
beyond  it,  in  the  background,  right,  a  slab-like  space 
in  the  otherwise  rough  wall,  with  a  huddle  of  stones 
beneath  it  closely  resembling  steps. 

At  the  right,  towards  the  foreground,  there  is  an  in- 
denture in  the  stone  wall  which  forms  a  natural  niche. 

There  is  a  passage  at  left  (background)  which  leads 
to  the  castle  cellars;  and  a  passage  at  right  (hack- 
ground)  which  leads  to  chambers  still  deeper  under- 
ground. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  the  stage  is  deserted;  but 
after  a  moment  the  goblins  begin  to  enter;  bearing  the 
Princess,  still  asleep  on  the  slip  mattress.  This  they 
place  in  the  center  of  the  stage,  after  which  they  crouch 
about  it  in  a  semicircle,  watching  her. 

KOLL 

(as  the  Princess  is  carried  in). 

Never  a  sound !     Tread  softly !     She  still  sleeps ! 
64 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  65 

MOTTLESNOUT 

(indicating  the  center  of  the  stage,  towards  foregroundj 
and  pointing  to  slip  mattress). 

Shall  we  place  it  here? 

King  Shadowcob. 
Yes,  here. 

Ratkin. 

Hush !     She  is  waking ! 

GWENDA 

(stirring,  then  sitting  up  and  rubbing  her  eyes  as  she 
gazes  about  her,  terrified ,  bewildered). 

Where  am  I  ?  Where  am  I  ?  Oh,  I  thought  I  was 
safe  in  my  own  little  bed  with  Mabina  beside  me!  Yet 
if  this  is  a  nightmare,  why  don't  I  awaken?  (With 
poignant  terror.)  The  shadows  that  I  feared — they've 
come  alive!  They're  staring  at  me!  Where  am  I? 
(Very  piteously.)     Who  are  you? 

King  Shadowcob. 

The  goblins.  Princess,  amongst  whom  you  have  come 
to  live. 

GWENDA. 

To  live?  Here?  (Brokenly,  yet  trying  to  be 
brave,)     Why,  you  are  jesting! 


\ 

66  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

King  Shadowcob. 
A  goblin  never  jests,  your  Highness. 

GWENDA. 

Oh,  nothing  but  a  jest  could  be  so  cruel.  No,  no, 
good  goblins,  'tis  but  half-earnest  that  you  speak.  If 
you  will  take  me  back,  the  King,  my  father,  will  re- 
ward you  generously.  Oh,  take  me  home,  good  goblins, 
take  me  home.  Indeed,  indeed,  my  father  will  reward 
you. 

King  Shadowcob. 

Who  comes  with  us.  Princess,  does  not  return  again. 

Gwenda 
(proudly). 
The  guards  will  search  for  me. 

King  Shadowcob. 

Small  good  will  be  their  searching.  If  they  should 
try  to  follow,  we  have  means  to  stop  them.  There 
are  few  who  can  probe  the  ways  of  goblin  cunning. 
There  are  none  who  can  trace  our  paths  so  far  beneath 
the  ground. 

[^He  gives  pantomimic  directions  for  Roll  and 
Troll  to  remove  slip  mattress,  which  they 
carry  to  the  back  of  the  stage. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  (fj 

GWENDA 

(to  herself), 
Cubert,  the  miner  boy — if  he  knew,  he  would  aid 
me !     I  am  the  daughter  of  a  King.     A  Princess  should 
not  falter. 

\She  tries  to  face  them  with  courage,  but,  after 
an  instant,  hides  her  eyes  with  her  hands. 

Ratkin 
(with  interest). 
It  IS  as  Troll  told  us!     Salt  water  is  beginning  to 
trickle  out  of  her  eyes! 

King  Shadowcob. 

That  comes  from  being  used  to  daylight.  Soon, 
Princess,  you  will  learn  to  love  the  dark.  We  will 
teach  you  the  ways  of  those  who  live  beneath  the  earth. 
Up,  then,  goblins!  We  must  prepare  for  ceremony. 
The  throne-robe,  KoU.     The  scepter,  Ratkin. 

[^General  stir,  which  takes  the  goblins  to  the 
back  of  the  stage, 

GwENDA 

(to  herself), 
I  must  not  anger  them.     I  must  do  as  they  bid  me 
until  help  arrives! 

[^At  the  back  of  the  stage  the  throne  has  been 
covered  with  the  dully  sparkling  throne* 
robe,  so  that  it  forms  a  royal  seat. 


68  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

MOTTLESNOUT. 

Princess,  your  throne  awaits  you. 

[He  leads  her  to  the  background.  The  gob- 
lins divide,  standing  in  semicircle  about  the 
throne.  The  Princess  shudders,  shrinking 
from  Mottlesnoufs  touch. 

King  Shadowcob 

(as  G  wend  a  is  seated  on  throne). 

You  will  not  shrink  when  you  have  known  us 
longer,  Princess.  When  you  are  older  you  will  marry 
Prince  Siumpkin,  and  be  our  queen.  Now  you  shall 
meet  the  goblins  one  by  one,  and  learn  to  call  them 
each  by  name. 

[In  pantomime  the  foremost  goblins  are  pre- 
sented. The  rest,  standing  in  broken  semi- 
circle, fall  on  one  knee.  Grotesque  imitation 
of  court  ceremony. 

King  Shadowcob 

(leading  Gwenda  to  center  foreground). 

Come,  now.  Princess,  since  we've  pledged  our  fealty 
to  you,  you  shall  do  us  the  same  in  turn.  You  shall 
drink  to  the  goblins.     Ratkin,  a  cup  of  goblin  wine! 

[Ratkin  brings  the  grotesque  goblet  filled  with 
the  wine  which  the  goblins  made  in  the  first 
act. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  69 

GWENDA 

(surrounded  by  goblins,  puts  the  cup  to  her  lips,  and 
then  shudders). 

No!     No!     I  cannot. 

[^Thrusts  goblet  blindly  into  Rat  kins  hands. 

King  Shadowcob 
(grimly). 
We  are  waiting,  Princess. 

Ratkin. 
A  health,  Princess.     A  health  to  the  goblins! 

[Thrusts  forward  the  cup, 

GwENDA 

(shudderingly  retreating  a  step  or  two,  and  speaking 
passionately). 


I  cannot  drink  it! 


Ratkin 


(as  goblins  close  menacingly  about  her,  while  Cubert 
swiftly  enters  from  passage,  left). 

Nay,  but  you  shall ! 


70  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

CUBERT 

(crashing  down  cup  from  Ratkins  hand)* 
Not  while  my  ax  can  speak! 

GWENDA 

(with  a  cry). 
Cubert!     I  hoped  you'd  come! 

[^Clings  to  him  in  passion  of  relief.  Goblins 
wrench  them  apart.  Babble  of  goblin  voices. 
"It's  the  miner  lad/'  ''Seize  him!'* 
''Rend  him."  "  Tear  him  limb  from  limb." 
Gwenda,  unable  to  aid  Cubert,  is  swept  in 
niche  of  the  wall,  right,  where  she  remains 
during  what  ensues,  Cubert  fights  silently 
and  stubbornly,  at  right,  while  Shadowcob, 
with  a  group  of  goblins,  dt  left,  holds  ani- 
mated discussion.  Cubert  fights  with  his 
back  to  left  group,  and  is  too  occupied  with 
defending  himself  to  observe  what  follows. 

King  Shadowcob 

(watching  the  struggle). 

He  IS  strong,  for  all  that  he  is  nearly  the  same  size 
as  ourselves !  He  must  have  chanced  on  our  secret  pas- 
sage. (To  Ratkin.)  Go  search  if  there  be  others  of 
his  kind. 

[Exit  Ratkin,  left. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  71 

MOTTLESNOUT. 

He  would  not  have  dared  to  face  so  many  of  us  if 
he  had  not  known  that  help  was  near.  The  castle 
guards  must  be  rousing ! 

[He  darts  after  Ratkin. 

Slumpkin 

(excitedly). 

Rousing  and  following! 

[Runs  toward  background:  then  pauses,  tensely, 
waiting  for  news, 

Ratkin 

(returning  with  Mottlesnout), 

The  castle  folk  are  blasting  at  the  cellar.  I  can 
hear  the  echo.  % 

Clawfoot. 

The  miner  lad  would  never  have  faced  so  many  of 
us  if  he  had  not  known  that  help  was  near. 

King  Shadowcob 
(indicating  passage  at  left). 

Then,  Troll,  take  picks,  and  unloose  the  river  from 
its  bed. 

[Group  of  goblins  armed  with  picks,  dart  after 
Troll,  up  passageway,  left. 


72  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

CUBERT 

(to  himself,  in  a  tense,  clear  whisper). 

The  river!     (Aloud,  and  valiantly,  as  he  still  fights.) 
Have  courage,  Princess!     Good  help  is  soon  coming! 

[^The  struggle  sways  towards  the  left  of  the 
stage.  Slump  kin  darts  toward  the  niche  in 
the  right  wall, 

Slumpkin 

(with  jeering  laughter). 

When  good  help  comes  it  will  not  find  her ! 

[Cubert  perceives  that  Slumpkin  is  approaching 
Gwenda.  With  a  sudden,  superhuman  ef- 
fort he  wrenches  himself  free,  seizes  a  goblin 
crowbar  from  the  goblin  nearest  him,  and 
stands  in  front  of  Gwenda  ere  Slumpkin  can 
reach  her,  the  crowbar  menacingly  upheld  in 
his  hand, 

CuBERT. 

Touch  her  not  on  your  life!     Which  of  you  chooses 
a  cleft  skull?     Come  forw^ard! 

l^For  a  moment  the  goblins  fall  back,  leaving  a 
clear   space   about    Cubert,     Then,    gradu- 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  ^i^ 

ally,  they  begin  to  close  in  again.  Half  the 
goblins  are  taking  directions  from  Shadow- 
cob,  left.  The  others  surround  Cubert, 
right.  The  fight  goes  against  him. — While 
he  is  engaging  the  goblins  nearest  him,  a 
smaller  goblin,  unnoticed  by  Cubert,  slides 
snake-fashion  along  the  ground,  and  catches 
Cubert  by  the  feet.  He  is  then  tripped, 
caught,  and  wrenched  into  the  center  of  the 
stage,  while  other  goblins  seize  and  hold  the 
Princess.  Cubert,  seeing  that  he  is  over- 
matched, stands  quietly  for  an  instant,  as 
one  who  would  hoard  his  strength  against  a 
final  effort. 

King  Shadowcob. 

So,  miner's  lad,  does  your  tongue  wag  as  bravely, 
and  your  heart  beat  as  stoutly  as  it  did  a  moment 
since  ? 

Cubert 

(defiantly). 

I  fear  neither  you  nor  your  goblins! 

{At  this  Mottlesnout  and  Koll  fly  at  Cubert 
angrily,  and  it  seems  as  if  the  struggle  would 
begin  again. 


74  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

King  Shadowcob. 

Gently,  gently,  Mottlesnout !  Remember  he  is  of 
more  use  to  us  alive  than  dead.  We  will  force  him 
to  work  at  our  forge  fire,  and  he  will  serve  us  well. 

[Ratkin,  followed  by  other  goblins  who  have 
been  assisting  him  up  passageway,  left,  sud- 
denly returns, 

Ratkin 
(at  top  of  his  lungs). 
Danger !     Danger ! 

King  Shadowcob. 
What  ails  you,  Ratkin? 

Ratkin 

(breathlessly). 

Sire,  the  outward  walls  of  our  passage  are  worn  so 
thin  that  at  the  first  stroke  of  my  pick  the  water  came 
rushing  through  a  thousand  times  faster  than  we 
planned.     'Tis  a  muddy  torrent  sweeping  all  before  it. 

King  Shadowcob 

(in  a  frenzy   of  terror), 

Down  to  your  lower  caverns,  goblins,  if  youM  save 
your  lives.  The  river  is  breaking  in  upon  us!  Leave 
the  lad!  He  cannot  harm  us.  We  have  not  time  to 
deal  with  him. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  75 

A  Goblin 
(pausing  by  Gwenda). 
And  the  little  Princess? 

CUBERT 

(again  rushing  to  the  rescue,  crowbar  in  hand). 
You  shall  taste  again  what  you  felt  before. 

Troll 

(to  KoUj  who  approaches  the  Princess), 

Leave  her,  Koll.  It  is  not  worth  the  struggle! 
(Goblins  swarm  out,  right.)  Hark  to  the  river!  We 
have  no  time  to  lose ! 

Koll 
(with  savage  menace  at  Cubert), 
But  I  would  make  an  end ! 

Troll. 
The  river  will  do  that !     Harken ! 

IT  hey  scamper  out,  the  last  of  the  goblins  to  go. 

Cubert. 
The  river!  .  .  .  Wait,  Princess! 

[He   runs    up    the   passageway    at    left,    from 
whence  comes  a  sound  as  of  a  torrent  of 


76  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

water  rushing  at  a  great  distance  away,  yet 
coming  gradually  nearer  and  nearer.  It  is  a 
faint  sound  at  first,  yet  it  increases  slowly 
and  steadily  during  the  ensuing  moments. 
It  is  never  loud,  but  it  is  more  and  more 
ominous,  Cubert  comes  back  after  an  in- 
stant, feeling  his  ankles.  The  iron  lamps  in 
the  wall  begin  to  flicker  and  give  a  fainter 
and  fainter  light, 

GWENDA 

(peering  at  Cubert  through  the  growing  darkness,  per- 
ceives that  he  touches  his  ankles,  and  also 
that  they  are  water-dreuched). 

Why,  they  are  wet !  The  mine  will  soon  be  flooded ! 
The  water  will  pour  down  the  passageway  ere  the 
castle  folk  can  reach  us ! 

Cubert. 

No!  No!  Princess!  There's  some  way  out.  Fll 
find  it.  Courage !  'Tis  but  some  trick !  Some  goblin 
evil!  (He  runs  to  passage,  right,)  There's  nothing 
but  a  long  dark  passage  leading  deeper  into  the  earth! 

GwENDA. 

Can  we  not  follow? 


I 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  ^^'j 

CUBERT. 

We  cannot  breathe  the  air  that  goblins  breathe.  So 
far  underground  we  should  smother  and  die. 

\JLooks  about  for  another  means  of  escape. 

GWENDA 

(standing  near  Cubert  as  he  pauses  by  rocky  wall  at 
left  foreground). 

It  is  true^  then,  what  the  goblins  said?  We  are  to 
die? 

Cubert. 

Courage,  Princess!  Oh,  if  the  castle  folk  would  only 
hasten!     Oh,  if  they  could  but  reach  this  council  hall! 

GwENDA. 

It's  growing  darker  and  darker ! 

Cubert. 

Courage,  sweet  Princess,  courage!  (To  himself, 
with  face  uplifted.)  And  yet  .  .  .  how  can — I — 
speak  of  courage.  ...  I,  who  am  beginning  to  be 
afraid!  (His  words  end  in  a  tense  whisper.  Then, 
with  a  visible  effort,  he  pulls  himself  together.)  Well, 
what  of  it?  I'll  face  my  fear!  I'll  meet  the  dark  as 
a  miner's  son  should!     If  I  had  but  a  flint  with  which 


78  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

to  strike  a  light.  (Gropes  in  his  pockets,)  They're 
empty!  Empty?  Why,  there's  the  ring!  (Draws  it 
forth,)  My  ring!  She  said  that  it  would  guide  me! 
(Puts  it  on.  Faint  music  as  in  Act  I.  By  this  time 
the  stage  has  grown  absolutely  dark,)  Isn't  that  her 
music?  There's  something  stretching  out  beneath  the 
ring  like  a  spider's  web!  (At  this  a  silver  thread  with 
a  curious  light  about  it  is  seen  through  the  dark.  It 
leads  from  where  Cubert  stands,  left,  to  the  irregular 
stone  steps,  right  background.  At  sight  of  it  Cubert' s 
voice  rings  out,  electrified,)  It's  shining  through  the 
dark  before  us!  (Follows  it  slowly,  leading  the 
Princess.)  It's  a  silver  thread — a  silver  thread  of 
safety!  I'll  follow  it  and  trust  The  Woman  from  Be- 
yond the  Hills!  'Tis  her  White  Magic!  .  .  .  I'll  fol- 
low. The  flood  cannot  hurt  us.  .  .  .  It  cannot  dim 
its  light.   .    .    .   We'll  follow.    .    .    . 

[The  music,  which  has  been  growing  gradually 
louder,  now  swells  into  a  splendid  harmony, 
A  door  of  stone  swings  open  at  the  top  of  the 
irregular  stone  steps  in  background,  and  be- 
yond it  is  seen  a  vista  of  hills  bathed  in  pale 
moonlight. 

Cubert 
(in  a  thrilled  voice). 

Princess!     We're  ifree!     We're  done  with  fearing! 
*Tis  the  wane  o'  the  moon.    The  dawn  wind  is  astir! 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  79 

GWENDA. 

How  soft  it  blows  against  my  face!  O  wind,  teach 
us,  teach  us  where  lies  safety ! 

CUBERT 

(joyfully  expectant), 

O  Silver  Thread,  guide  us — guide  us  now  to  safety! 

\^He  moves,  with  uplifted  face,  his  finger  fol- 
lowing the  Silver  Thread,  his  arm  protect- 
ingly  about  the  little  Princess.  The  light 
moves  with  him,  following  him  as  he  exits. 
The  door  closes  behind  him.  The  stage  in- 
stantly grows  black.  There  is  a  wild  sound 
like  the  thunder  of  waters  tearing  through 
the  passage,  as  the  curtain  falls. 

Scene  II 

Cuberi's  home,  the  same  as  in  Act  I,  Faint  moon- 
light,  giving  way  to  the  blackness  that  comes  before  the 
dawn.  Against  the  horizon,  signal  fires  a-light.  Dame 
Morna  enters  from  without,  pauses  in  doorway,  and 
speaks  as  one  to  whom  the  silence  is  intolerable,  and  the 
sound  of  any  human  voice — even  her  own — a  comfort. 

Dame  Morna. 

Still  fires  a-blaze,  and  men  at  work!  More  men. 
And  yet  no  sign  of  Cubert  and  the  Princess.     Oh,  I 


8o  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

would  work  with  the  men  myself,  but  there  is  nought 
that  I  can  do  to  aid  them.  They  have  no  need  for 
women  folk  at  such  an  hour.  The  dark  before  the 
dawn,  and  yet  no  sign!  Only  blackness.  Oh,  if  the 
castle  guards  had  reached  the  passage  in  time,  but  now 
the  mine  is  flooded  with  water — the  river  is  rushing  in. 
(With  flicker  of  hope.)  And  yet — there  may  be  other 
passages — goblin  passages  that  folk  do  not  know.  Cu- 
bert  is  quick  and  brave!  I  know  he'll  find  them! 
But  oh — the  waiting!  (Sound  of  faint  music) 
What's  that  ?  What's  that  ?  'Tis  like  an  echo !  Now 
I  remember — 'twas  The  Woman  from  Beyond  the  Hills 
— an  echo  of  her  music.  What  was  it  that  she  said? 
That  folk  must  face  their  fearing.  So  if  my  lad  must 
die,  is  it  not  well  that  he  should  die  defending?  (With 
face  upraised.)  Fight  bravely  in  the  Dark,  my  little 
Cubert !  And  yet — he  may  not  die.  I  have  no  beacon 
light,  and  yet — oh,  here  within  me — the  fire  of  Hope — 
I'll  keep  it  burning  strongly.  Oh,  if  that  hope  could 
reach  him  through  the  darkness!  There  are  things  be- 
yond my  knowing.  Perhaps  it  may.  Perhaps  it  may. 
I'll  set  out  milk,  and  keep  the  hearthstone  warm. 
(Bends  at  hearth.)  Was  that  a  step?  (Turns.)  A 
voice  in  the  darkness? 


Cubert 
(entering  with  the  Princess), 
A  step  ?     There  spoke  my  mother  I 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  8i 

Dame  Morna. 

Cubert!  *Tis  you!  (Clasps  him  to  her.)  Your 
very  self!  (Holds  out  welcoming  hands.)  And  the 
little  Princess ! 

Cubert. 

All  safe,  all  safe,  my  mother.  I  brought  her  first  to 
your  warm  arms  and  tender  care. 

Dame  Morna 
(as  she  leads  the  Princess  to  the  hearth). 
You  are  not  going,  Cubert? 

Cubert 

(pausing). 

To  tell  the  news,  my  mother.  Why,  you  would 
scarce  believe  it ;  but  of  all  the  folk  who  are  stirring  we 
met  not  a  single  one ! 

[Exit  Cubert. 
Gwenda 

(seated  at  hearth). 

No,   all   w^as  dark  around   us  save  for  the  Silver 

Thread  that  ran  beneath  Cubert^s  fingers — the  Silver 

Thread   that  came  from  the  ring  and   guided  us  to 
safety. 


Sz  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

Dame  Morna 

(to  herself  J. 

The  ring — the  ring  that  would  save  him  if  he  did 
not  fear.     Oh,  that  was  Wisdom's  wisdom ! 

GWENDA. 

What  say  you,  Dame  Morna? 

Dame  Morna. 

Drink  this  milk,  my  Princess.  So  cold  you  are,  and 
wet  with  dew.     Stand  closer  to  the  fire. 

GWENDA. 

I  am  not  cold,  Dame  Morna.  Listen!  They're 
cheering!  (Runs  to  window.)  Why,  'tis  my  father 
on  the  highroad  to  the  castle!  'Tis  the  King,  my 
father!  He  has  come  back,  and  I  must  run  to  meet 
him.  Give  me  the  cloak.  Dame  Morna.  I  must  tell 
him  all. 

[Exit  Gwenda. 

Dame  Morna 

(watching  at  window). 

He  has  lifted  her  up  to  his  saddle,  and  my  son  stands 
there  beside  him.     They  are  coming  here. 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  83 

King  Radnor 
(entering J  followed  by  Gwenda  and  Cubert), 
I  seek  the  happy  mother  of  a  brave  son.  I  can  offer 
Dame  Morna  nothing;  for  in  Cubert  she  possesses 
more  than  the  gold  of  kings.  But  to  Dame  Morna's 
son,  for  all  that  he  has  done  this  night,  I  will  give  that 
which  he  asks,  and  I  will  not  stint  the  giving. 

Cubert. 
I  humbly  thank  your  Majesty;  but  there  is  little  that 
I  wish  save  a  velvet  gown  for  my  mother;  and  a  new 
pickax  for  myself. 

King  Radnor. 
I  would  have  given  you  the  half  of  my  kingdom,  boy ! 

Cubert 
(confused). 
Indeed,  sire,  I  would  not  know  what  to  do  with 
half  a  kingdom! 

King  Radnor. 

Yet  it  is  wise  heads  and  brave  hearts  such  as  yours 
that  should  help  kings  to  rule. 

Gwenda 

(smiling  at  Cubert). 
That  means  you'll  come  to  the  castle  every  day. 

[Solberg  enters,  breathlessly,  and  falls  on  one 
knee  before  the  King, 


84  THE  SILVER  THREAD 

King  Radnor. 
Why,  how  now,  Solberg? 

SOLBERG. 

I  bring  you  great  news.  Sire.  The  schemes  of  the 
goblins  have  fallen  on  their  own  wicked  heads.  The 
river  that  they  turned  from  its  course  has  become  a  rag- 
ing torrent.  It  has  broken  in  the  walls  of  their  very 
deepest  passages,  penetrating  far  beneath  their  council 
hall.  The  hideous  bodies  of  dead  goblins  fill  the  mines. 
There^s  not  one  left  to  tell  the  tale. 

[King  makes  gesture  of  dismissal;  Solberg  rises, 
bows,  and  exits, 

GWENDA 

(quickly). 

So  you  see,  father,  if  it  hadn^t  been  for  Cubert,  I 
wouldn't  be  here  now.  I  need  no  longer  fear  the 
shadows ! 

[King  and  Princess  exeunt. 

Cubert 

(joyfully). 

You'll  be  going  to  court,  my  mother,  and  wear  a  vel- 
vet gown! 


I 


THE  SILVER  THREAD  85 

Dame  Morna. 
What  do  I  care  for  velvets,  now  that  I  have  you  safe  ? 

CUBERT 

(at  door:  the  sky  is  flushed  with  dawn;  the  signal  fires 
are  quenched). 

See,  mother,  see! 

Dame  Morna. 
See  what,  dear  lad  o'  mine? 

Cubert 

(in  a  wonder-thrilled  voice). 

Look !  There  where  the  sun  is  rising  the  strange  old 
woman  of  yesterday  stood  for  a  moment  on  that  hill- 
top, and  the  light  was  on  her  face,  and  as  I  looked  at  her 
she  smiled.  (Turning  hack  into  room,)  What  think 
you  that  it  means — the  visit  she  paid  us,  the  ring  she 
gave  me,  the  Silver  Thread  that  guided  me  to  safety? 
Does  it  mean  that  if  we  are  brave  and  steadfast  the 
dark  will  always  clear?  Does  it  mean  that  faith  and 
courage  help  to  lead  us  upward  ? 

Dame  Morna 
(her  arm  about  him). 
Aye,  son,  until  we  come  unto  the  light  at  last ! 

CURTAIN 


THE  FOREST  SPRING 

An  Italian  Folk  Play 


CHARACTERS 

Am  ATA,  an  old  woman 
Giovanni,  her  young  grandson 
FiAMMA^  the  daughter  of  a  neighbor 
The  Spirit  of  the  Forest 


THE  FOREST  SPRING 

Source 

In  many  Italian  folk  tales,  as  In  the  folk  tales  of 
other  European  countries,  the  search  for  eternal  life  is 
a  popular  theme,  and  the  spirits  of  springs  and  of  foun- 
tains and  forests  are  akin  to  the  wise  and  informing 
fairies  of  other  nations,  only  in  Italian  folklore  they 
seem  to  be  the  direct  descendants  of  dryads  and  naiads. 
The  Fountain  of  the  Water  of  Life  is  the  goal  of  many 
seekers.  Sometimes  it  is  an  old  woman  who  seeks  it, 
sometimes  a  lad.  (See  the  folk  tale  entitled  "The 
Castle  of  Life  "  in  Laboulaye's  "  Fairy  Tales  of  All 
Nations.") 

Stage  Setting 

While  this  play  is  designed  for  out-of-doors,  either 
in  woodland  spaces,  parks,  or  playgrounds,  a  schoolroom 
production  is  perfectly  possible.  Screens  covered  with 
green  burlap  form  the  sides  and  background.  Large 
green  ferns,  their  pots  coverei  with  dark-green  cam- 
bric that  is  placed  about  them  so  that  they  appear  to 
spring  from  mounds.  A  brown  floor  cloth  strewn 
with  leaves  of  green   and  brown  tissue  paper.     The 

89 


90  THE  FOREST  SPRING 

vines  and  the  blossoms  can  also  be  made  of  tissue  paper. 
So  can  the  scarlet  flower.  Two  small  barrels  nailed 
together  and  covered  with  brown  burlap  from  the  fallen 
tree.  To  this  green  crape  paper  is  fastened  for  moss. 
The  tree  stump  behind  it  is  made  of  a  pole  hatrack 
wound  with  green  and  brown  cambric.  A  few  tissue- 
paper  leaves  fastened  to  twigs,  or  artificial  branches, 
should  be  hung  on  it. 

The  green  bank  where  the  hidden  spring  runs  can  be 
formed  by  a  sloped  box  covered  with,  green  cambric. 
The  spring,  a  succession  of  small  mirrors,  with  green 
cambric  or  tissue  paper  surrounding  them.  -  The  cup  is 
made  of  rock  candy.  The  whole  is  strewn  with  green 
leaves. 

Costumes 

Amata.  a  leaf-brown  dress.  White  kerchief 
around  her  neck.  White  apron  edged  with  scarlet  and 
green.  A  dark-green  handkerchief  fastened  prettily 
about  her  gray  hair.  Tissue  paper  or  cambric  may  be 
used  for  kerchief  and  apron,  over  the  everyday  clothes 
of  the  girl  who  plays  the  part.  Large  gilt  earrings. 
(Curtain-rings.) 

Giovanni.  Black  knee-breeches.  White  stockings 
to  simulate  bare  feet.     A  white  shirt  open  at  the  neck. 

FiAMMA.  A  scarlet  skirt.  White  guimpe  and 
apron.  A  scarlet  peasant  bodice.  Scarlet  and  blue 
beads  about  neck.  Hoop  earrings.  A  draped  scarlet 
head-dress  such  as  can  be  seen  in  any  pictures  of  Italian 


THE  FOREST  SPRING  91 

peasant  life.     Apron  and  head-dress  also  of  tissue  paper, 
if  cambric  is  not  forthcoming. 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest.  Pale-green  cambric 
under-robe  falling  in  graceful  folds  to  the  floor.  Over- 
robe  of  dark,  mottled  green,  fastened  at  shoulders  and 
sweeping  behind  as  a  train.  This  cambric  over-robe 
should  have  black  and  gilt  markings  so  that  it  resem- 
bles snake's  skin. 


THE  FOREST  SPRING* 

Scene:  A  deep  wood  near  Salerno,  Trees  at  right, 
left,  and  background.  Vines  with  starry  white  blossoms. 
White  wild  flowers.  At  the  right,  on  a  slender  stem,  a 
great  scarlet  flower,  glowing  and  beautiful.  In  the  right 
foreground  a  mossy  slope,  with  here  and  there  some 
stones  showing  whitely  against  it,  and  small  ferns 
clustering  thickly.  Towards  the  middle  of  the  stage 
a  fallen  log,  mossed  and  aged.  Upright  behind  it  a 
stump  so  overgrown  with  moss  that  its  bark  shows 
through  only  here  and  there,  a  mere  brown  glimmer. 

Underfoot  the  leaves  of  many  autumns  have  drifted 
and  rotted  till  a  bronze  and  brown  carpet  of  them 
stretches  beneath  the  trees. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  Fiamma  comes  in  from 
left,  looking  about  her  for  more  fruit  to  pluck,  and  car- 
rying with  her  a  basket  already  half-filled.  Finding  a 
vine  of  berries,  she  kneels  by  it,  her  back  turned  towards 
Amata  and  Giovanni,  who  enter  from  the  right.  It  is 
evident  that  they,  too,  have  been  gathering  wild  fruitL 
Each  of  them  carries  a  basket. 

Amata. 

Is  It,  indeed,  you,  pretty  Fiamma? 

♦Printed  by  arrangement  with  Popular  Educator.. 
93 


94  THE  FOREST  SPRING 

FlAMMA 

(turning). 

Well  met,  Neighbor  Amata.  And  the  young  Gio- 
vanni— how  tall  and  handsome  he  is  growing! 

[Giovanni,  who  is  a  very  little  hoy,  hides  shyly 
behind  Amata  at  these  words, 

Amata 

(seating  herself  on  log), 

I  thought  it  was  your  bright  kerchief  I  saw  through 
the  branches,  Fiamma.  (Indicating  Fiammas  basket.) 
The  forest  has  richly  rewarded  you  for  your  toil ! 

Fiamma 

(indicating  Amata' s  basket). 

You,  also,  Amata!  And  is  it  not  strange;  for  at 
the  tdgt  of  the  forest  there  were  neither  figs  nor  ber- 
ries; yet  here  we  find  them  in  abundance. 

Amata. 

And  flowers.  Have  you  noted,  Fiamma,  strange 
flowers,  all  heavy  with  perfume?  And  herbs  that  I 
cannot  name.  Surely  there  is  no  part  of  the  wood  that 
I  do  not  know ;  for  I  have  lived  on  the  edge  of  the  forest 
all  my  life,  yet  never  do  I  remember  to  have  seen  this 
spot  before. 


THE  FOREST  SPRING  95 

FlAMMA. 

Nor  I,  Amata.  But  shadows  play  strange  tricks. 
This  wood  is  not  the  same  at  dawnlight  and  at  twilight. 
Often  I  come  on  summer  eves  when  the  forest  lies  all 
black  and  silver  in  the  moonlight,  when  familiar  paths 
seem  strange  and  the  silence  makes  you  hear  your  heart- 
beats. Then  I  remember  strange  tales  that  were  told 
to  me  at  the  hearth-fire,  and  the  forest  that  by  day- 
light I  knew  so  well  becomes  an  unknown  country  into 
which  I  dare  not  go. 

Amata. 

Folk  tell  less  of  old  tales  than  they  did,  Fiamma. 
In  my  young  days  folk  said  that  a  wondrous  spirit 
roamed  the  forest.  Her  robe  was  green  as  the  leaves, 
and  her  hair  was  bound  with  a  chaplet.  Men  heard 
her  voice  come  singing  down  the  winds  of  Summer,  and 
saw  her  footprints  in  the  snows  of  Winter. 

Fiamma 

(eagerly). 

And  was  it  not  in  those  olden  days  that  men  be- 
lieved that  in  this  wood  was  the  spring  of  immortality, 
and  that  whoever  could  find  it  and  drink  of  its  shining 
water  could  live  forever  on  this  good  green  earth? 

Amata. 

Aye,  so  men  believed.  And  in  my  youth  I  believed  it 
also.     Often  and  often  I  searched  for  it.     Often  and 


96  THE  FOREST  SPRING 

often  I  half-believed  that  I  had  found  it.  And  some- 
times even  now,  w^hen  the  leaves  whisper  together  with 
a  sound  as  of  running  water,  I  listen  and  look  for  that 
enchanted  spring  whose  beauty  is  more  than  mortal, 
and  whose  taste  is  life.  It  would  be  a  wonderful  thing, 
Fiamma,  never  to  leave  the  blue  sky  and  the  sunshine, 
never  to  bid  farewell  to  the  grass  and  the  growing 
flowers. 

Fiamma 

(kneeling  by  A  mat  a),  i 

Of  that  I  seldom  think,  good  Amata.  But  folk  are 
always  talking,  and  other  tales  they  tell,  too,  of  a 
flower  that  grows  here  in  the  forest  whose  juice  holds 
magic  properties.  Folk  say  that  if  mortals  touch  it 
to  their  eyelids  that  for  an  hour  they  see  strange  things 
— enchantments. 

Amata 

(shaking  her  head). 

'Tis  only  old  folks  say  these  things,  Fiamma.  The 
world  no  more  believes  them.     And  you 

Fiamma. 

I,  too,  I  only  half-believe  them.  (Springing  up.) 
Come,  dear  Amata.  Let's  test  the  wondrous  fables. 
Let  me  try  essences  upon  your  eyelids!  (Going  to 
right  of  stage.)     See!     Here's  a  scarlet  flower,   and 


THE  FOREST  SPRING  97 

scarlet  is  for  magic.     A  strange  flower,  too,  that  grows 
not  in  our  village!     (Plucks  it,)     Hark! 

\^Far  away,  yet  sweet  and  silvery,  a  bell  chimes 
four, 

Amata. 

The  bells  in  the  village  steeple  strike  the  hour! 
The  sound  comes  clearly  through  the  silent  air. 

FlAMMA 

(laughing,  as  she  crushes  juice  from  scarlet  flower  onto 
Amata  s  eyelids). 

Now,  dear  Amata,  you  will  see — such  wonders! 

Amata 

(smiling  and  opening  her  eyes). 
A  pretty  girl,  and  a  boy  with  a  well-filled  basket! 

FlAMMA 

(shaking  her  head). 

No !  No !  You  are  teasing  me !  Come,  Giovanni, 
ril  show  you  where  more  fruit  grows.  Wait  here 
and  rest,  Amata.     Come,  Giovanni ! 

\_Giovanni,  who  has  been  making  a  cat's  cradle, 
leaves  off,  and  follows  her.  They  exeunt 
left,  towards  background,  their  voices  sound- 
ing further  and  further  away. 


98  THE  FOREST  SPRING 

FlAMMA 

(in  distance). 
Come,  Giovanni! 

Giovanni 

(still  further  away). 
Are  there  figs,  Fiamma? 

Amata. 

Fiamma  is  ever  jesting!  Yet  a  mischief  take  the 
juice  she  rubbed  on  my  eyelids.  'Tis  warm  and  smart- 
ing. I  could  not  have  thought  that  the  essence  of  a 
chance  flower  could  prick  so  keenly.  (Rubs  eyes,) 
Why,  do  I  dream,  or  has  something  happened  to  my 
eyesight?  I  seem  to  see  every  separate  leaf  distinctly, 
and  the  sunshine  is  twice  as  golden,  and  the  sky  more 
deeply  blue. 

]^Rubs  eyeSj  opens  them  again,  and  sees  the  spirit 
of  the  Forestj  who  has  silently  entered  from 
right,  a  radiant,  green-clad  figure,  chapleted, 
and  with  a  green-gray  cloak  that  shimmers 
like  a  snake's  skin, 

Amata 
(vigorously  rubbing  her  eyes  once  more). 
Oh,  I  am  dreaming,  surely! 


THE  FOREST  SPRING  99 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 

Some  might  call  it  dreaming,  and  others  might  say  it 
was  seeing  clearer  than  is  your  wont.  Be  not  afraid, 
Amata.     Only  a  moment  since  you  spoke  my  name. 

Amata 

(half -dazed). 
You  were  here,  and  heard  me  ? 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 

Aye,  but  you  could  not  see  me  till  the  juice  of  the 
magic  flower  was  laid  upon  your  eyelids. 

Amata. 

Indeed,  I  knew  not  ^twas  a  magic  flower.  'Twas 
by  chance  Fiamma  plucked  it. 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 
Chance  works  strange  miracles,  Amata. 

Amata. 

But  none  so  strange  as  this.  Oh,  you  are  very  won- 
drous!    Your  robe — your  chaplet 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 

All  that  I  have  is  of  the  forest's  weaving.  All  things 
the  forest  lent  to  my  adorning.     The  soft  brown  bark 


100  THE  FOREST  SPRING 

of  trees  has  made  my  sandals.  My  robe  is  fashioned 
of  discarded  snake-skins.  (Indicating  robe  she  wears 
beneath  her  snake-skin  cloak.)  And  this  Is  gossamer 
all  palely  tinted  with  the  storm-crushed  stems  of  wild- 
flowers  and  of  fern  leaves.  My  chaplet — woven  of  the 
olive!  (Indicating  tall  staff  which  she  carries,  and 
which  is  topped  with  a  lily.)  This  lily  from  my  deep- 
est forest  pool.  These  pearls  are  dewdrops  strung  on 
cobweb  threadings.  'TIs  well  the  magic  flower  has 
touched  your  eyelids.  Now  for  an  hour  you'll  hear 
and  see  enchantments.  This  is  my  best  loved  spot  in  all 
the  forest.  Here  do  I  paint  the  wings  of  butterflies. 
Here  do  I  counsel  all  shy,  furry  creatures.  Here  Is  the 
open  book  of  Forest  Wisdom.  Here  Is  the  key  to  for- 
est mystery!  (With  face  uplifted,)  This  is  a  spot 
where  dreams  sometimes  come  true;  and  where  folk 
meet  at  last  with  Hear'-'s  Desire.  Listen,  Amata.  Let 
the  forest  speak  to  you. 

Amata 

(with  face  uplifted), 

Harken !  Above  the  whisper  of  leaves,  and  the  mur- 
mur of  little  creatures  in  the  grass,  I  hear  the  sound 
of  running  water.  (Turns  to  slope ,  at  left.  Brushes 
back  leaves  and  ferns  in  excited  haste.)  A  spring! 
With  water  like  silver !  Never  have  I  seen  the  like  be- 
fore! And  amid  the  ferns  Its  stones  are  crystal.  And 
hollowed  out  there  is  a  crystal  cup !  (Holds  it  up,  then 
turns  to    The  Spirit  of  the  Forest,)     The  immortal 


THE  FORE^^/'SP^IXG  loi 

spring!  The  immortal  sp/iijg!-  I  wonkier-- -.s  :r  true 
that  I  have  found  It?  Oh,  all  my  life  I've  sought  it. 
Oh,  Spirit,  is  it  true  that  I  have  found  it? 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 
Aye,  it  is  true,  Amata. 

Amata. 
Have  village  folk  come  here,  and  tasted  it,  fair  spirit  ? 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 
Aye,  village  folk  have  come ;  but  none  have  tasted  it. 

Amata. 

But  I  will  taste  of  it!  (Kneels  and  fills  cup.)  And 
live  forever  on  this  good  green  earth.  (Rises,  cup  in 
hand,)  My  old  eyes  will  see  clearly.  My  old  feet 
will  move  swiftly.     There'll  be  no  more  hobbling. 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 

Nay,  Amata.  The  spring  gives  length  of  days;  but 
'tis  no  cure  for  pain.  For  sorrow  and  pain  are  mortal, 
and  though  you  tread  the  earth  forever,  these  shall 
you  bear  with  you  throughout  the  centuries.  No 
mortal  ever  yet  escaped  them. 


102  THE  F.CRfiST  SPRING 

,  ;  Amaxa 

(kneeling  by  spring,  yet  lowering  the  cup  from  her 
lips). 

The  spring  seems  not  so  silver  as  I  thought.  And 
yet.  .  .  .  To  live  forever! 

[/^  about  to  put  cup  to  her  lips. 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 
Does  sweet  Fiamma  love  you  ? 

Amata 
(pausing). 
Aye,  that  she  does. 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 

And  all  the  village  maids — the  sturdy  lads — do  they 
not  love  you  also?  Drink  of  the  spring,  yet  ere  you 
drink,  Amata,  remember  that  hereafter  folk  will  fear 
you — the  strange  Amata  who  can  live  forever!  And 
where  fear  is,  love  is  not. 

Amata 

(again  lowering  the  cup). 

The  cup  has  lost  its  sparkle !     But,  fair  spirit,  to  live 

forever  on  this  good  green  earth !     This  is  the 

spring  IVe  ever  sought  to  find,  and  now  that  I  have 
found  it 


THE  FOREST  SPRING  103 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 

Drink  then,  Amata.  Yet  ere  you  drink,  think  deeply. 
All  the  young  folk  you  know  will  age,  and  you  will 
still  be  living.     Blithe  Giovanni 

Amata 

(with  a  cry,  dropping  cup,  which  shivers  into  a  hun- 
dred pieces). 

Not  my  little  grandson!  I  could  not  bear  to  think 
of  him  as  aging!  (To  herself,)  To  live  forever! 
Feared — not  loved  and  cherished.  Why,  all  my 
friends  would  leave  me,  one  by  one.  Oh,  if  I  could,  I 
would  not  live  forever.  I  see  it  now.  I  would  not 
live  forever.  Oh,  I  am  glad  I  did  not  taste  the  foun- 
tain.    But  I  have  broken  the  cup ! 

The  Spirit  of  the  Forest. 

The  years  will  mend  it.  And  other  folk  will  think 
to  take  a  draught  from  it,  and  yet  none  ever  will;  for 
ere  they  drink  they'll  pause,  as  you  have  done,  Amata. 
And  the  spring  will  be  untasted. 

\^The  Spirit  of  the  Forest  waves  her  tall  staff 
over  the  spring.  In  the  distance  the  bells 
toll  faintly  the  hour  of  five. 

Amata 

Why,  now  the  bells  are  chiming!  Another  hour  has 
sped!      (Turns  to  see   The  Spirit  of  the  Forest,  who 


104  THE  FOREST  SPRING 

meantime  has  tossed  the  drifting  leaves  across  the  spring 
with  her  tall  staff,  and  vanished  into  the  forest  by  the 
opening,  left  foreground.)  And  she  has  vanished — The 
Spirit  of  the  Forest.  And  the  immortal  spring — I  won- 
der, was  I  dreaming?  (Bends  over  it,)  There's 
neither  spring,  nor  cup.  (Rubs  eyes,)  And  the  forest 
looks  as  always.  'Twas  some  trick  of  my  eyes.  I  have 
been  dreaming.  There  are  no  magic  flowers  with  scar- 
let petals.  I've  been  a-drowsing.  Yes,  that's  sure. 
That's  certain.  (Giovanni  enters,  left  background,) 
Oh,  Giovanni,  it  is  time  you  came ! 

Giovanni 

(holding  up  basket), 
I've  brought  you  berries. 

FlAMMA 

(entering,  left). 
And  rich  figs — of  the  ripest. 

Amata. 
I  have  been  gathering,  too. 

Giovanni. 
What  have  you  gathered  ? 

Amata. 
Wisdom. 


THE  FOREST  SPRING  105 

Giovanni 
(peering) , 
And  yet — I  do  not  see  it  in  your  basket. 

I  Amata 

(touching  her  heart  and  brow). 
My  child,  'tis  here  and  here  one  gathers  wisdom. 

FlAMMA. 

And  the  flower's  essence — what  did  it  do,  Amata? 

Amata. 

Ah,  who  shall  say,  Fiamma,  who  shall  say  ?  Whether 
its  juice  was  magic-filled,  I  know  not;  but  this  I  know 
— that  I  see  all  things  clearer.  (A  shadow  falls 
thwart  their  pathway,)  Look!  The  night  is  coming, 
and  we  had  best  be  turning  to  the  village,  to  lights  that 
wait  us,  and  to  hearts  that  love  us. 

[^They  move  towards  the  right  of  the  stage, 

f  Fiamma. 

And  the  spring,  Amata,  the  enchanted  spring? 

Amata. 
Better  a  draught  from  our  own  village  well  than  any 


io6  THE  FOREST  SPRING 

fabled  fountain;  better  the  joys  we  have  than  dreams 
we  do  not  know ! 

[Through  a  sudden  flush  of  sunset  that  deepens 
swiftly  to  a  grayish  hint  of  twilight  they 
move  with  contented  faces  through  the  wood 
at  right,  and  disappear  from  view. 


CURTAIN 


THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 
A  Celtic  Folk  Play 


CHARACTERS 

MoiRA  Farrel 
Michael,  her  son 
The  Foam  Maiden 


THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 

Source 

The  sources  of  this  folk  play  are  the  Celtic  folk  tales 
wherein  the  merrows,  or  mermaids,  hold  an  important 
part.  To  be  able  to  snatch  a  merrow's  cap,  the  scarlet 
cohullen  druith,  was  to  gain  a  power  over  the  merrow 
which  nothing  could  break  till  the  merrow  recovered 
the  cap  again.  The  folk  tales  wherein  the  merrows 
appear  have  many  variants,  but  through  them  all  the 
same  note  is  struck :  it  bodes  ill  for  mortals  to  have  to 
do  with  magic  or  sea-wonders.  Sometimes  it  is  a  fisher 
lad  whom  the  merrow  dupes;  sometimes  it  is  a  hardy 
seaman  who  listens  to  their  sweet  singing,  and  is  be- 
witched by  it.  That  the  merrows  charmed  fishes  as 
well  as  mortals  with  their  singing  is  a  superstition 
voiced  not  only  in  Celtic  folk  lore ;  but  in  Scandivanian 
legends  where  sea-going  folk  are  anxious  to  capture 
mermen  that  they  may  "  call  the  fishes."  But  ill  luck 
always  seemed  to  come  of  holding  a  merrow  or  mer- 
man captive,  and  so  quick  was  the  retribution  dealt  out 
by  the  mermen  that  a  Norwegian  folk-saying  came  into 
being,  "  Then  laughed  the  merman,"  meaning  that  vic- 
tory was  short-lived,  the  phrase  drawn  from  a  folk  tale 
which  had  its  parallel  in  the  old  Irish,  in  the  legend  of 
Aided h  Fergusa, 

109 


110  THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 

Stage  Setting 

The  schoolroom  setting  will  do  admirably  for  this 
play,  and  schoolroom  furniture  likewise.  A  hearth 
formed  of  boxes  fastened  together  by  a  board.  The 
space  in  between  is  the  hearth.  The  whole  should  be 
covered  with  gray  canvas  bulked  to  represent  stone,  and 
marked  wuth  black  and  white  chalk.  A  hearthglow  of 
two  red  electric  lights,  or  gray  and  scarlet  tissue  paper, 
at  first  covered  with  shreds  of  gray  tissue  paper,  which 
are  blown  from  off  the  supposed  fire  with  a  bellows.  If 
the  right  number  of  exits  cannot  be  had,  cover  screens 
or  frames  with  sacking  or  burlap.  The  net  can  be  fash- 
ioned of  common  string. 

Costumes 

The  Foam  Maiden.  Pale-green  robe  of  cheese- 
cloth, or  pale-green  net  over  pale-green  glazed  cam- 
bric, which  will  look  like  the  satiny  gleam  of  seaweed. 
Seaweeds,  real,  or  of  paper,  fastened  here  and  there  to 
her  robe.  Pearls  about  her  neck  and  in  her  hair  and 
about  her  arms.     White  stockings  to  simulate  bare  feet. 

MoiRA  Farrel.  a  scarlet  petticoat,  with  a  black 
tuck-up.  A  black  bodice,  and  small  white  kerchief  at 
neck. 

Michael  Farrel.  Gray  shirt,  open  at  neck. 
Loose  gray  breeches.     A  tattered  coat  of  the  same  color. 


THE  FOAM  MAIDEN* 

Scene:  A  room  in  a  fisherman's  house  on  the  west 
coast  of  Ireland,  In  the  middle  background  a  door 
giving  on  a  strip  of  beach.  This  door  is  made  in  two 
pieces,  so  that  the  upper  part  can  be  opened,  while 
the  lower  is  left  closed.  At  the  right  of  the  door  a 
window  curtained  in  quaintly  flowered  cambric, 

A  door  left,  towards  the  foreground,  and  another 
door,  right,  towards  the  background,  open  into  small 
sleeping-rooms. 

A  crude  cobbled  hearthstone,  left,  and  turf  for  a  fire. 
Some  iron  pots  and  skillets.  On  the  shelf  above  stand 
a  few  bits  of  crockery.  Near  the  hearth  a  three-legged 
stool.  In  the  center  of  the  room  a  plain  pine  table 
with  a  stool  on  each  side  of  it.  Against  the  middle  of 
the  right  wall  a  shelf  cupboard,  with  a  few  dishes,  a  jar 
of  oatmeal,  and  some  oaten  cakes. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  the  stage  is  empty  and  dark. 
After  a  moment  Michael  enters,  candle  in  hand.  He  is 
a  likely  frank-faced  lad  with  a  gray  shirt  open  at  the 
neck,  and  knee-breeches  much  the  worse  for  wear,  A 
moment  after  he  has  entered,  the  door  at  right  opens, 
and  Moira  comes  into  the  room,  a  peasant  woman  with 
a  keen  sweet  face,  and  hair  that  is  touched  with  gray, 

♦Printed  by  arrangement  with  The  Normal  Instructor, 
III 


112  THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 

her  scarlet  petticoat  making  the  one  bit  of  color  in  the 
meager  dwelling.  She  carries  a  candle,  shielding  it 
with  her  hand, 

MoiRA. 
What  o'clock  is  it,  Michael,  at  all? 

Michael. 

It  lacks  an  hour  of  the  gray  of  the  dawn.  Why 
are  you  up  so  early,  mother?  You'd  best  go  back  and 
sleep. 

MoiRA. 

I  heard  you  stirring  and  came  to  see  what  troubled 
you.     Why  are  you  off  before  the  daylight  ? 

Michael. 

'Twas  just  a  dream  I  was  having.  It  came  to  me 
while  I  slept  that  something  was  wrong  with  the  nets, 
and  I  thought  I'd  best  be  seeing. 

MoiRA 

(opening  the  upper  part  of  the  door  and  leaning  out), 

'Tis  as  black  as  pitch ;  but  I  can  hear  the  far  waves 
dancing  on  the  reef.  There's  a  fair  wind  blowing,  and 
you'll  have  a  steady  pull. 


THE  FOAM  MAIDEN  113 

Michael. 

Well,  then,  'twill  be  the  easier  coming  back.  Where's 
my  lantern,  mother? 

MoiRA 

(running  to  build  fire  and  put  on  pot). 

It's  half  asleep  you  are,  Michael.  Wait,  now! 
There's  a  sup  of  stir-about  left.  (Michael  starts  for 
door.)     Nay,  Michael 

Michael 
(turning  at  the  pleading  sound  of  her  voice). 
Well,  then,  to  please  you,  mother! 

MoiRA 

(fondly). 

It's  little  difference  one  moment  will  be  making. 
And  a  strong  net  like  3^ours  needs  more  than  a  run- 
ning sea  to  be  disturbing  it. 

Michael 
(supping  stir-about  at  fire). 
Are  any  of  our  neighbors  stirring  at  all? 

MoiRA 

(at  window). 
Nary  a  one,  Michael.     'Tis  all  alone  you'll  be. 


114  THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 

Michael. 

Save  for  the  wind  and  the  waves,  and  maybe  some 
merrow  sitting  far  out  on  the  rocks  with  the  brown 
seaweed  drifting  about  her  pretty  feet,  and  the  pearls 
a-shining  in  her  long  hair.  And  sinking  to  herself,  be- 
like, some  strange  song  or  other.  Sure,  folks  do  say  its 
the  sweetest  and  most  lulling  music  in  the  whole  wide 
world. 

MOIRA 
(terrified). 
Michael,  you'd  never  be  listening! 

Michael. 

Trust  me!  Sure,  the  lad  that  listens  to  a  merrow's 
singing  falls  asleep  in  his  boat,  and  lucky  he  is  if  he 
reaches  land  at  all.  But  the  lad  that  can  snatch  a 
merrow's  cap — the  cohullen  druith  that  they  do  be 
wearing — ah,  he's  the  one  to  be  envied ;  for  he  holds  in 
his  hand  a  charm  that  can  never  be  broken  till  the  mer- 
row gets  the  cap  again. 

[Sits  a-dream. 
MoiRA 

(briskly). 

Wisha,  now,  what's  all  this  talk  of  charms  and 
spells?  It's  ill-dealing  that  has  to  do  with  magic!  It's 
no  dreamers  we  are;  but  hard-working  fDlk.     Here's 


THE  FOAM  MAIDEN  115 

your  lantern,  Michael,  and  good  luck  to  you.  I'll 
be  putting  on  more  stir-about  and  with  that  and  a  bit 
of  fish,  maybe,  'tis  a  fine  breakfast  we'll  be  having 
when  you're  back  again.  And  perhaps  I'll  be  taking 
another  wink  or  so,  just  to  please  you,  and  then  it's  my- 
self that  will  be  ready  for  a  long  day's  work.  (Michael 
takes  lantern  and  goes  out  the  door  in  background, 
Moira  stands  for  a  moment  watching  him.)  Ah,  it's 
the  fine  lad  he  is,  and  it's  myself  that's  proud  of  him! 
Look  at  him  now,  with  his  torcheen  the  only  moving 
thing  in  all  the  blackness!  Troth,  it's  a  wonderful 
meal  I'll  have  for  him  when  he  comes  home  again! 
(Stirs  about  the  room,)    .    .    ,  Merrows,  indeed !   .    .    . 

[Puts  down  her  candle,  blows  out  MichaeVs, 
and  places  it  on  a  shelf  above  hearthstone ; 
fills  pot  with  water  for  porridge;  takes  out 
oatmeal,  and  pauses  every  now  and  then  to 
shield  her  eyes  and  look  without  the  while 
she  sings: 

Air:  The  Pretty  Girl  Milking  Her  Cow 
("A  valley  lay  smiling  before  me") 

There's  some  would  be  meddling  with  magic — 

(They'd  be  wiser  to  leave  it  alone!) 
For  to  hark  when  a  merrow  is  singing 

'Twill  bring  them  but  sorrow,  och  hone! 
When  the  dances  the  fairies  are  weaving 

Make  rings  on  the  grass  everywhere, 
*Tis  then,  when  the  sunset  is  fading, 

Of  spells  and  all  magic — Beware! 


ii6  THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 

O  there's  nights  when  the  surf  seems  to  whisper, 

And  the  wind  pipes  the  softest  o'  tunes; 
When  the  shadows  lie  black  on  the  causeway, 

And  the  kelpies  are  out  on  the  dunes ; 
Strange  lights  they  do  flit  on  the  moorland — 

Strange  voices  they  call  through  the  air: 
'Tis  then,  at  the  deep  hour  o'  midnight. 

Of  spells  and  black  magic — Beware! 

But  oh,  in  the  dark  of  the  dawning 

Comes  the  hour  when  the  spells  take  their  hold ! 
When  the  sea  is  uneasy  and  troubled, 

And  the  mists  they  are  wraith-like  and  cold ; 
'Tis  a  time  when  strange  things  do  be  brewing. 

And  charms  do  be  weaving  a  snare — 
O  then,  between  dawning  and  darkness, 

Of  spells  and  sea  magic — Beware ! 

When 

Michael 
(without,  excitedly). 
Mother!     Mother! 

MOIRA 

(running  to  door,  flinging  it  wide  and  looking  without). 

It's  never  Michael  back  again?     Heaven  save  us! 
What  is  it  he's  bringing? 

[Michael  enters  in  a  joyful  triumph,  net  on  arm, 
a  merrow  following  him,  a  slender  creature 


THE  FOAM  MAIDEN  117 

robed  in  pale  misty  green,  with  shells  and 
pearls  gleaming  about  her  arms  and  unbound 
hair.  Through  all  that  ensues  her  fathom- 
less eyes  look  far  beyond  Michael  and  his 
mother  J  and  save  for  the  steps  she  takes  to 
cross  the  room,  she  is  as  motionless  as  she  is 
mute, 

Michael 

(his  voice  ringing  clearly). 

What  am  I  bringing  at  all  but  a  merrow  maiden! 
Lift  up  the  light  and  look  at  her,  mother.  *Tis  like 
a  pearl  she  is,  and  her  robe  a  green  mist. 

MoiRA 
(half-speechless). 
-   The  saints  preserve  us ! 

Michael 

(still  passionately  triumphant). 

Fast  asleep  she  was,  floating  on  the  water,  and  when 
I  wakened  her  straight  into  my  net  she  swam,  be- 
wildered-like,  and  the  very  next  minute  I  snatched  off 
her  cap,  and  now  she  must  do  my  bidding  whether  she 
likes  it  or  no ! 

[^The  Foam  Maiden  crosses  and  sits  on  stool  by 
fire,  facing  audience. 


ii8  THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 

MoiRA 

(halHearful). 

You'll  be  offending  her,  Michael,  if  you  talk  like 
that.  (To  the  Foam  Maiden,)  You  mustn't  mind 
him  at  all!  It's  himself  that  sometimes  forgets  his 
manners!  (To  Michael,)  Troth,  she  isn't  listening! 
It's  only  the  call  o'  the  sea  she's  hearing  and  nought 
else.  And  there  is  a  far  look  in  her  eyes  as  if  it  was 
only  the  waves  she  was  seeing ! 

Michael. 

True  for  you,  mother.  Never  a  word  does  she  know, 
and  never  a  word  has  she  spoken.  I'm  thinking  it's 
folly  that  folks  are  talking  when  they  speak  of  a  Foam 
Maiden's  singing.  'Tis  as  dumb  as  a  stone  she  is,  and 
as  beautiful  as  the  morning.  Did  you  see  the  seaweed 
in  her  hair  and  the  pretty  pearls  she's  wearing?  Look 
at  her  now,  resting  by  the  hearthstone  as  if  she'd  al- 
ways lived  with  us !  Ah,  wasn't  I  the  lucky  lad  to  find 
her!  She'll  sit  in  the  prow  of  my  boat,  and  draw  the 
fishes  to  me,  and  there'll  be  no  more  days  when  I  come 
back  to  you  empty-handed  from  the  bitter  sea!  Why 
aren't  you  glad  with  me,  mother  ? 

MoiRA 

(soberly). 

Because  I'm  thinking  it's  ill  to  be  meddling  with 
magic.    The  work  a  lad  does  with  his  own  hands  is 


THE  FOAM  MAIDEN  119 

his,  and  will  bring  him  joy;  but  the  work  he  makes 
another  do  for  him  is  never  his  own.  No !  No !  Sea 
magic,  or  shore  magic,  'tis  all  the  same.  You'd  best 
be  leaving  it ! 

Michael 
(with  stubborn  flare). 
Indeed  and  Til  not,  then! 

MOIRA 

(with  growing  indignation), 

'Tis  yourself  you  are  thinking  of,  and  none  other! 
What  will  I  do  with  her  sitting  there  in  the  chimney 
corner  all  the  day  long,  with  those  white  hands  of  hers 
lying  empty  in  her  lap!  Can  she  bake?  Can  she 
spin?  Can  she  mend  the  fire  for  me?  It's  trouble 
you've  brought  me,  and  nought  else ! 

Michael. 
Nay,  nay,  mother.     Think  of  the  fish  she'll  bring  us. 

MoiRA. 

Your  own  arm,  and  your  own  wit,  they've  always 
been  enough  for  you.  Why  should  you  be  changing 
things  now?  Take  my  word  for  it,  Michael,  I've  seen 
the  years  come  and  I've  seen  the  years  go,  and  my  old 
heart  knows  that  it's  the  lad  that  helps  himself  that's 


120  THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 

the  lucky  lad.     Give  the  merrow  her  cap,  and  you'll 
be  glad  you  took  my  word. 

Michael. 

Wisha,  now,  I'll  do  no  such  thing!  (Opens  his 
rough  coat,  and  shows  scarlet  cap,  edged  in  pearls. 
Unseen  by  either  Moira  or  Michael,  the  Foam  Maiden 
bends  forward  and  looks  at  it  keenly,  and  then  sits  mo- 
tionless  again  as  before.)  The  cap  is  mine,  and  why 
should  I  be  returning  it?  (Coaxing.)  Take  a  bit 
more  rest,  my  mother,  and  then  things  will  look  in  a 
better  light  to  you!  (Rises,  and,  with  arm  about 
Moiras  shoulders,  leads  her  to  the  door  at  right. 
Then  looks  at  Foam  Maiden.)  With  her  to  guide  me, 
I  needn't  be  setting  off  till  daybreak. 

Moira 

(reluctantly). 

You'll  not  listen  to  her  if  she  should  begin  speaking? 
You'll  not  be  letting  her  put  a  charm  on  you? 

Michael. 

Wisha,  now,  mother,  how  could  she  put  a  charm  on 
me?  Isn't  she  the  one  that  must  do  as  I  say,  forever? 
(His  mother  enters  and  closes  door,  right.  Michael 
seats  hijnself  by  table.)  It's  myself  that  can  laugh  now, 
and  be  working  when  I  please!  (Gazing  at  the  silent 
Foa?n  Maiden.)     Isn't  it  strange  to  look  up  and  see 


THE  FOAM  MAIDEN  121 

a  merrow  sitting  there!  What  is  it  she's  thinking  of 
at  all,  I  wonder?  It's  not  the  hearth  or  the  peat 
smoke,  I'll  be  bound!  'Tis  like  a  dream  to  look  at  her, 
and  sometimes  I  wonder  if  it  isn't  dreaming  I  am! 

[Rests  head  on  arms. 

The  Foam  Maiden 
(cautiously  stirring  after  a  moment's  silence,  and  speak- 
ing lullingly  yet  clearly;  faint  music,  like  the 
musical  ripple  of  water,  plays  softly 
off  stage  as  she  speaks). 

Sleep !     Sleep ! 
Fathomless,  deep! 

Michael 

(drowsed  and  bewitched). 

Is  it  awake  or  asleep  I  am,  or  dreaming  entirely? 

The  Foam  Maiden 

(softly    rising   and   moving,   and   then   standing   with 

arms  upraised  as  if  in  incantation). 

By  the  wild  white  sea  horses  that  no  man  can  master. 
By  the  blown  spray  that  flies  o'er  the  reefs  of  disaster. 
Let  slumber  enfold  him ! 
Chain  him  and  hold  him! 

[Michael  sleeps  profoundly.   The  Foam  Maiden 
approaches  him  lightly  and  scornfully. 

You  who  are  holding  a  merrow  in  thrall. 

Did  you  not  know  I  would  hear  the  waves  call? 


122  THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 

My  cap  did  you  steal  and  me  landward  you  bore. 
Who  meddles  with  magic  shall  meddle  no  more ! 

[Pauses,  looking  down  on   him. 

Did  you  think  I  was  deaf  save  to  curlew's  wild  cry? 

Did  you  think  I  was  blind,  save  to  gulls  wheeling  by? 

I  who  saw,  I  who  heard 

Every  step,  every  word! 

I,  who  am  wise 

As  the  petrel  that  flies 

Ere  the  break  of  the  storm! 

I  who  am  kin  to  the  wind  and  the  spray 

That  call  me  away! 

[She  unfastens  his  coat  softly,  and  takes  out  the 
scarlet  cap,  holding  it  rapturously. 

Yield  now  the  cap  you  have  stolen  from  me! 

Free  am  I  now  as  the  foam  of  the  sea! 

Free  with  my  druith  all  broidered  in  pearl 

To  sit  on  the  rocks  where  the  green  combers  curl! 

[Bends  over  him  tauntingly. 

Long  and  long,  foolish  lad,  shall  ye  pay  for  its  stealing; 
For  when  ye  are  out  where  the  gray  gulls  are  wheeling, 
'Neath  the  keel  of  your  boat 
Shall  the  mermaidens  float — 
Shall  laugh  through  the  water 
Each  Sea  King's  fair  daughter! 


THE  FOAM  MAIDEN  123 

Shall  mock  you  and  flaunt  you 
And  beckon  and  taunt  you, 

Shall  drag  at  your  nets  with  hands  white  as  foam, 
Shall  turn  your  boat  seaward  when  you  would  turn 
home ! 

ISnatches  up  net,  and  knife  from  table. 

And  the  net^ne'er  again  shall  it  snare  a  sea  maid. 
Thus  and  thus !    Thus  and  thus  is  your  folly  repaid ! 

[Cuts  the  net  to  shreds.  Then  pauses  with 
head  thrown  back,  listening  to  the  sound  of 
the  sea,  where  the  tide  is  rising. 

Hark,  the  sea  and  its  urge! 
Hark,  the  voice  of  the  surge! 
It  bids  me  begone! 

[Moves  to  door  with  the  glad  look  of  one  greeting 
a  comrade. 

Wild  wind,  lead  thou  on! 

[Exit  the  Foam  Maiden.  A  moment's  silence, 
during  which  Michael  sleeps  as  before.  The 
gray  of  dawn  begins  to  steal  into  the  room. 
The  candle  gutters  and  dies,  Moira  enters, 
her  sleep  over.  She  bends  over  Michael  and 
shakes  him  gently,  the  while  she  looks  con- 
cernedly at  the  place  left  vacant  by  the  Foam 
Maiden,  She  does  not  at  first  perceive  the 
ruined  net. 


124  THE  FOAM  MAIDEN 

MOIRA. 

Michael!  Michael!  'Tis  time  for  you  to  be  rous- 
ing yourself! 

Michael 

(wakingj  stares  J  sees  place  left  vacant  by  Foam  Maiden, 

claps  his  hand  to  his  breast,  and  finds 

the  cap  is  missing). 

The  druith — 'tis  gone!     And  the  Foam   Maiden's 

gone  with  it ! 

MOIRA. 

Well  did  I  know  she  would  put  a  spell  on  you, 
Michael.  'Twas  her  voice  that  I  heard  in  my  dreams. 
'Twas  that  that  bewitched  you !  (Catches  sight  of  rent 
net  J  and  speaks  with  a  cry.)  Michael!  The  net! 
(Holds  it  up,)  The  strong  net  that  was  all  that  we 
had  for  providing!  Tis  as  useless  as  seaweed!  Tis 
the  price  that  you  paid  for  meddling  with  magic ! 

Michael 
(bitterly). 
And  for  trying  to  shoulder  my  work  on  another! 
Won't  you  look  at  me,  mother?  (Very  tenderly,) 
'Tis  never  again  I'll  be  disregarding  the  words  that  you 
say  to  me.  (A  new  manliness  sounds  in  Michael's  tone 
as  he  speaks,  and  Moira  brightens.)  Ah,  then,  look 
up  now,  mother;  for  I've  learned  for  all  time  that  a  lad 
must  trust  to  his  own  wit,  and  his  own  right  arm,  and 
that  is  a  fortune  entirely ! 

CURTAIN 


TROLL  MAGIC 

A  Norwegian  Folk  Play 


CHARACTERS 

YOLANDE 

Olga 

Dame  Sigrid 
Bergmoss 
Thorncap 
mousefoot 
Troldar 
Bat's-Eye 
Shagstone 
Snake-Lip 
Owl's-Ear 
Other  Trolls,  Dancers,  Fruit  Carriers,  etc. 


TROLL  MAGIC 

Source 

The  sources  of  Troll  Magic  might  be  said  to  lie  in 
every  legend  that  has  to  do  with  trolls,  and  these 
legends  are  well-nigh  countless.  As  to  when  these 
troll  legends  first  originated,  it  is  difficult  to  determine. 
Keightly  and  Thorpe  seem  to  agree  that  it  was  in  the 
earliest  dawn  of  the  country's  lore.  Indeed,  troll  drolls 
are  curiously  interwoven  with  Norse  mythology. 
Trolls  were  reputed  to  have  flourished  in  the  time  of 
Thor,  and  to  this  day  many  of  the  smooth  wedge- 
shaped  stones  seen  in  the  Norwegian  mountains  or  by 
the  fiords  are  said  to  have  been  thrown  by  Thor  at  the 
trolls  when  their  eerie  antics  displeased  him. 

Other  legends  place  the  origin  of  the  trolls  at  a  later 
date.  These  legends  connect  the  trolls  with  the  com- 
ing of  Christianity  into  Norway,  describing  the  trolls 
as  those  souls  who  preferred  to  remain  in  heathen  dark- 
ness. It  was  probably  either  this,  or  the  fact  that  they 
belonged  to  the  old  world  of  Thor  and  Frea  which 
gave  rise  to  the  belief  that,  above  all  else,  the  trolls 
feared  the  ringing  of  a  churchbell,  a  touch  of  holy 
water,  or  the  sign  of  the  cross.  With  the  coming  of 
Christianity  into  Norway,  the  trolls  betook  themselves 
to  more  or  less  remote,  inaccessible  places  among  the 

127 


128  TROLL  MAGIC 

hills  and  forests,  reappearing  whenever  they  were  bent 
on  mischief.  They  had  underground  kingdoms,  ruled 
over  by  troll  leaders  (See  Ibsen's  Dovre  King's  scenes 
in  ''Peer  Gynt"),  and  revels  held  above  ground  in 
wood  or  meadow.  In  many  Norwegian  folk  tales  the 
trolls  are  represented  as  being  fond  of  roving  the  forests 
and  hills,  often  appearing  to  startled  woodchoppers  and 
herdsmen.  Now  and  again  some  luckless  mortal  would 
be  bewitched  by  them,  and  in  this  case  his  only  hope  of 
freedom  was  to  reach  a  church,  or  to  have  a  churchbell 
rung  for  him. 

For  a  mortal  to  dance  with  the  trolls  was  of  all 
things  the  most  to  be  feared.  Ere  the  dance  was  ended 
the  mortal  would  be  utterly  aged,  hair  whitened,  face 
wrinkled.  Those  who  danced  all  night  with  the  trolls 
sometimes  disappeared  ere  cockcrow,  passing  none  knew 
whither.  And  since  mortal  woe  was  a  keen  joy  to  the 
troll-folk,  they  were  ever  on  the  watch  for  those  whom 
they  might  entice  to  join  their  revels.  Nodding  crones 
whispered  of  maids  who  had  stolen  away  to  dance  with 
the  trolls  by  moonlight,  and  who  had  returned  aged 
and  crazed.  The  troll  music  was  said  to  be  strangely 
alluring,  and  their  dances,  slow  at  first,  grew  madder 
and  madder  as  their  spells  took  deeper  hold.  In  many 
villages  it  was  the  custom  to  ring  the  churchbell  at 
stated  intervals,  so  that  whatever  evil  charms  the  trolls 
were  weaving  might  be  broken  ere  they  were  complete. 
Symbolically  the  trolls  were  understood  to  be  the  powers 
of  darkness,  who  could  only  be  conquered  by  the  powers 
of  light. 


TROLL  MAGIC  129 

Stage  Setting 

While  this  play  is  primarily  designed  for  outdoor 
use,  it  can  readily  be  given  in  the  schoolroom.  For  the 
schoolroom  production  the  whole  play  should  be  read, 
to  give  its  outdoor  atmosphere;  but  the  schoolroom 
stage  should  be  simply  arranged,  with  green  hangings 
for  a  background,  a  green  covered  screen  at  the  left,  to 
represent  the  forest  from  which  the  trolls  emerge.  The 
pool,  a  mirror;  the  fallen  tree  trunk,  two  small  barrels 
joined  together,  and  covered  with  green  and  brown 
burlap  to  represent  moss  and  bark.  For  the  blasted 
tree  a  pole  hat-rack  wound  with  white  glazed  cotton 
batting,  painted  with  greenish,  brownish  streaks.  The 
trolls,  if  no  fantastic  costumes  are  possible,  should  wear 
with  their  everyday  clothes  peaked  brown  or  gray  tissue- 
paper  caps.  The  troll  parts  are,  of  course,  played  by 
boys.  The  magic  fruits  should  be  glittering  Christmas- 
tree  baubles.  The  dance  music  should  be  played  by  a 
violin  off  stage.  When  Olga  withers,  charcoal  crows' 
feet  can  be  quickly  drawn  about  her  eyes  as  she  dances 
away  from  the  audience,  and  her  hair  should  have  a 
powdered  lock  brought  forward.  When  she  becomes 
young  again,  Yolande's  sheltering  cloak  hides  the 
process  of  wiping  off  the  crows'  feet,  and  putting  back 
the  lock  of  whitened  hair.  The  dance  should  last  for 
several  minutes.  The  troll  music  from  Grieg's  "  Peer 
Gynt  Suite  "  would  be  appropriate  for  it,  or  any  light 
fantastic  rythm  that  suggests  the  tripping  of  elfish  feet 
The  use  of  colored  lights  for  the  rose  of  sunset  and  the 


130  TROLL  MAGIC 

purple  of  twilight  would  add  greatly  to  the  scenic  ef- 
fects if  they  could  be  had. 

Costumes  ' 

YoLANDE.  A  white  woolen  skirt  with  three  bands 
of  scarlet  ribbon  at  the  hem.  A  white  guimpe.  Scarlet 
peasant  bodice.     Scarlet  cloak. 

Olga.  a  pale-gray,  full  ankle-length  skirt.  White 
guimpe.     Gray  peasant  bodice.     Gray  cloak,  hooded. 

SiGRiD.  A  black  dress  similar  to  Olga's,  save  that 
the  guimpe  is  black  also.  A  thick  black  cloak  about 
her  shoulders.     A  peasant  cap,  white  and  flaring. 

The  Trolls.  Goblin-like  suits  of  brown  and  gray, 
with  differentiating  touches.  Moss  fastened  to  Berg- 
moss's  costume,  golden  dots  to  Snake-Lip's;  a  cap 
edged  with  thorns  for  Thorncap,  etc.,  etc. 


TROLL  MAGIC* 

Scene  :  A  field  bounded  on  the  left  by  the  deep  woods 
that  are  known  as  the  troll-forest.  A  tangled  path 
leads  out  of  this  forest;  but  the  forest  itself  is  so 
densely  intertwined  with  vines  and  branches  that  be- 
yond the  first  few  trees  that  mark  its  beginning,  only 
a  green  twilight  is  visible. 

At  the  right  the  fields  supposedly  slope  toward  the 
village  of  Thordis.  On  this  side  of  the  field  is  a  small 
pool  bordered  with  moss  and  ferns  (a  mirror  sunk  in 
the  ground). 

In  the  center  of  the  field  a  blasted  tree,  twisted  and 
grotesque,  suggesting  troll  revels;  near  this  tree,  left 
center,  the  fallen  trunk  of  another  tree,  age-rotted  and 
covered  with  moss. 

The  time  is  late  afternoon  on  a  summer  s  day,  and 
the  play  begins  by  the  entrance  of  Dame  Sigrid  from  the 
right,  an  old  woman  with  a  thin  loose  cloak  about  her 
shoulders.  In  one  hand  she  carries  a  staff  on  which  she 
leans  heavily,  and  in  the  other  a  basket  partly  filled  with 
herbs.  From  time  to  time  she  bends  stiffly  and  adds 
other  herbs  to  those  she  has  already  gathered.  After 
a  moment  she  seats  herself  on  the  fallen  log,  resting. 

*  Copyright,  1910,  by  The  Normal  Instructor, 
131 


132  TROLL  MAGIC 

From  the  depths  of  the  troll-forest,  very  far  in   the 
distance,  come  the  voices  of  the  trolls,  chanting: 

Mortal  woe  Is  troll-folks'  treasure, 
^       Tears  and  sorrow  give  us  pleasure, 
Come  and  dance  with  us  a  measure! 


SiGRID 

(nodding  to  herself). 

They  can  dance  their  measures  for  all  I  am  caring! 
Do  they  think  they  can  draw  me  to  their  forest?  No! 
No!  Fve  known  the  ways  of  the  trolls  too  long  for 
that! 

YoLANDE''s  Voice 

(in  distance). 

Greetings  to  you,  good  mother  Sigrid! 

[Yolande  and  Olga  appear  in  the  background, 
Yolande's  hair  is  in  two  golden  braids; 
Olgas  is  dark  and  heavy.  Both  carry 
baskets  filled  with  field  fruits, 

Sigrid 

(perceiving  them), 

I  thought  it  was  trolls  I  heard,  and  instead  *tis  a 
pretty  maiden !     Greetings  to  you,  Yolande,  and  to  you, 


TROLL  MAGIC  133 

too,  Olga.  What  brings  you  so  near  the  edge  of  the 
troll-forest  ? 

YOLANDE. 

Our  straying  feet,  and  these (Holds  up  vine 

of  berries,)  Each  vine  held  more  than  the  rest !  And 
as  for  flowers — (Takes  from  her  bosom  vial  filled  with 
perfume.) — such  essences  have  I  found  as  v^^ould  de- 
light the  heart  of  a  queen! 


SiGRID 

(taking  a  whiff  from  vial), 

A  good  smell,  truly!  One  that  savors  of  sunshine 
and  blossoms  and  honey.  But  for  all  your  thrift  and 
skill,  do  not  stray  too  far,  sweet  Yolande. 

YOLANDE. 

You  are  jesting  about  the  trolls,  oh,  surely!  Why, 
not  for  years  and  years  have  folk  seen  them  about. 
They  say  there  are  too  many  churchbells  ringing. 

SiGRID. 

If  folks  strayed  to  this  spot  on  moonlit  evenings  or 
on  the  edge  of  twilight,  they'd  see  trolls  a-plenty.  Yon- 
der is  the  troll-haunted  forest,  and  this  is  the  very  spot 
where  they  hold  their  eerie  dances. 


134  TROLL  MAGIC 

Olga 

(at  the  word  ''  dance  "  swaying  lightly  as  a  flower  in 
the  wind,  her  foot  tapping). 

Dancing.  ...  It  is  a  word  I  love!  IVe  heard, 
too,  that  their  music  is  wondrous! 

SiGRID. 

Aye,  wondrous  to  the  ear,  enticing  to  the  foot,  and 
deadly  to  those  who  listen;  for  whoever  listens  to  it 
and  falls  a-dancing  with  the  trolls,  bitterly  will  they 
rue  their  folly.  One  measure  danced  with  the  troll- 
folk  will  turn  a  maid  that  is  young  and  fair  into  a 
crone  that  is  old  and  haggard.  Wise,  indeed,  is  the 
maiden  who  never  lifts  her  eyes  when  the  troll  music 
is  playing.  Wise,  indeed,  is  the  maiden  who  turns 
from  their  wheedling  tongues  and  crafty  eyes. 

Olga 

(unheeding  what  passes  between  Sigrid  and  Yolande, 
bending  enthralled  over  pool  at  right). 

There's  a  pool  here,  Yolande.  It  must  feed  the 
brook  that, runs  to  the  fiord.  I  can  see  my  face  in  it 
as  in  a  mirror. 

Yolande 

(kneeling  by  Sigrid,  who  is  seated  on  log). 

Is  there  no  way — no  way  to  free  a  maiden  from  the 
troll-spell,  once  she  has' danced  with  them? 


TROLL  MAGIC  135 

SiGRID. 

But  one  way,  my  sweet  Yolande.  Far  in  the  troll- 
forest  grow  wondrous  grapes — such  grapes  as  the  berg- 
folk  are  wont  to  heap  high  on  golden  salvers.  To  buy 
these  grapes  and  make  wine  of  them — this  alone  will 
free  the  maiden  on  whom  their  spell  is  cast. 

Yolande 
(earnestly). 
And  can  any  mortal  make  the  wine  ? 

SiGRID. 

Any  mortal  who  knows  no  fear.  For  whoever 
fears  will  be  mastered  by  the  trolls  in  the  end.  And 
the  wine  that  is  made  with  fear  is  useless. 

Yolande. 

Have  any  of  the  village  maids  danced  with  the 
trolls,  good  Sigrid? 

SiGRID. 

Aye,  one.  A  tall  girl,  Yolande,  with  braids  like  to 
thine.     Lena  Thurgensen  her  name  was. 

Yolande. 
Where  is  she  now,  Dame  Sigrid? 


136  TROLL  MAGIC 

SiGRID. 

The  grass  knows,  and  the  sun-warmed  earth. 

YOLANDE 
(halHearfully). 
You  mean 


SiGRID. 

I  mean  that  Lena's  voice  is  no  longer  heard  when 
the  girls  come  singing  across  the  fields  at  twilight.  And 
Lena  herself  no  longer  bleaches  linen  on  the  fiord-shore 
meadows. 

YOLANDE 

(half -terrified J  half -fascinated) . 

Is  there  naught — naught  that  the  troll-folk  fear, 
good  Sigrld? 

SiGRID. 

The  cross-sign,  and  the  churchbell.  These  they  fear 
always.  That  which  bears  the  sign  of  the  cross  the 
trolls  may  not  touch.  It  would  wither  them.  (Rises,) 
But  we  have  talked  long  enough  of  trolls  and  their 
mischief.  Look!  The  day  Is  turning  toward  sunset, 
and  here  am  I  a  long  hobbling  distance  from  home. 
Mark  you  this,  Yolande.  Use  your  feet  merrily  while 
your  good  days  last;  for  it  is  weary  to  be  old  and  to 
take  each  step  painfully. 


TROLL  MAGIC  137 

YOLANDE 

(prettily). 

But  when  folk  are  old  there  is  often  a  young 
shoulder  to  lean  on.  Lean  you  on  mine.  I  will  guide 
you  to  the  road  until  we  see  the  church  spire  and  the 
houses  of  the  village.  In  an  hour  the  churchbell  will  be 
ringing.     Come,  then,  Olga. 

Olga 

(bending  over  pool  and  putting  flowers  in  her  hair). 

I  am  coming,  sister.  (To  herself,)  What  harm  if 
I  linger  a  little?  The  fields  are  so  cool  and  sweet! 
(Looks  off,)  And  the  air  blows  so  freshly!  I  won- 
der  • 


Trolls 

(in  distance;  but  coming  nearer). 

Mortal  woe  is  troll-folks'  treasure. 
Tears  and  sorrow  give  us  pleasure. 
Come  and  dance  with  U3  a  measure ! 

[Light  fantastic  music  begins  and  continues 
throughout  all  that  folloivs,  its  appeal  grozu- 
ing  stronger  and  stronger. 


138  TROLL  MAGIC 

Olga 

(rising  in  fear). 

That  IS  their  music!  Those  are  their  voices!  I 
must  hasten. 

[The  trolls  dance  in  from  forest,  left,  OwVs- 
Ear  and  Bafs-Eye  carry  a  salver  of  fruits  of 
strange  beauty,  such  as  grow  in  no  mortal 
orchard, 

Bergmoss 

(to  Olga). 

Why  hasten,  pretty  maiden,  when  we  are  already 
here? 

Olga 

(clapping  hands  against  her  eyes), 
I  will  not  look  at  you ! 

I  A  ^  MOUSEFOOT. 

But  listen  to  our  music,  gentle  maiden.  You  will 
never  hear  its  like  again.  Come,  tread  a  measure 
with  us! 

Olga 

(to  herself). 
What  Sigrid  said  may  have  been  old  wives'  folly ! 


TROLL  MAGIC  I39 

Thorncap.    . 
Hark  to  the  music !                   , 
Olga 
(swayed). 
It  may  be  unwise — and  yet — and  yet 

Troldar. 

Come,  turn  your  head,  sweet  maiden.  One  look  will 
not  matter.  And  one  step  danced  with  us — ^where  is 
the  harm  in  that  ?  Only  one  step,  sweet  maiden.  Hark 
how  the  music  calls  you ! 

Olga 

I                           (swayed  and  bewitched). 
w     One  step,  then,  one  measure 

[^Turns  her  head.  Sees  trolls.  Laughs  mer- 
rily. Begins  to  dance,  tripping  it  lightly, 
the  trolls  swirling  round  her.  In  the  mazes 
of  the  dance  Olga  is  swirled  towards  the 
background,  her  face  turned  from  the  audi- 
ence. The  dancing  grows  madder  and 
madder. 

Bergmoss 

(aside  to  OwVs-Ear,  left  foreground). 

See  how  she  treads  the  measure ! 


140  TROLL  MAGIC 

Owl's-Ear 

L.  (nodding). 

The  spell  is  working ! 

[The  music  ceases  abruptly, 

Olga 

(turnings  dazed,  and  half-breathless). 

Has  the  music  stopped? 

\_As  she  turns  it  is  evident  that  the  evil  spell 
has  fallen  upon  her.  Her  face  is  lined  with 
wrinkles  J  and  her  hair  is  touched  with  gray ; 
but  she  herself  is  quite  unconscious  of  the 
change  that  has  taken  place, 

Bergmoss. 

Aye,    and   the   dancing.     Where   would   you   now, 
pretty  maiden? 

Olga. 

I  would  be  turning  homeward,  and  much  I  thank 
you  for  the  pleasure  you  have  given  me. 

Owl's-Ear 

(leering). 

You    are    more   welcome    than   you   know,    pretty 
maiden. 


TROLL  MAGIC  141 

Olga 

\^  ( Hearing  pool). 

Your  voice  sounds  so  strange  when  you  say  "  Pretty 
maiden " !  (Kneels  by  pool,  sees  her  reflection,  and 
cries  out  in  anguish,)  Oh,  what  is  here?  What  do  I 
see?     Have  mercy! 

Bergmoss 
(taunting). 
Look  well,  look  well,  pretty  maiden ! 

Olga 

(falling  on  her  knees  to  assembled  trolls,  and  stretch- 
ing out  her  hands  appealingly ) . 

Mercy!  Have  mercy!  Mad  as  I  was  to  dance 
with  you,  have  mercy !  Oh,  break  your  spell  and  set  me 
free!  Oh,  change  me  back  to  what  I  was,  good  troll- 
folk  !     My  heart  is  breaking ! 

Shagstone. 
What  care  we  for  human  hearts,  foolish  maiden? 

MOUSEFOOT 
(taunting). 
What  will  they  say  in  the  streets  of  the  village  ? 


142  TROLL  MAGIC 

Troldar 

(with  grim  menace). 

You  need  not  beat  your  hands,  gentle  maiden.  They 
will  be  quiet  soon. 

Bergmoss 

(as  trolls  prepare  to  depart). 

Fain  were  you  to  tread  a  measure ;  and  fain  were  we 
that  you  should  dance  with  us;  for  to  bring  a  mortal 
to  sorrow  is  the  troll-folks'  joy.  Farewell  to  you,  fool- 
ish Olga.  Weeping  will  not  smooth  your  wrinkles! 
There  is  no  help  in  tears! 

[The  trolls  exit  into  wood,  right,  their  voices 
sounding  further  and  further  away  as  they 
sing. 

Mortal  woe  is  troll-folks'  treasure, 
Tears  and  sorrow  give  us  pleasure, 
Come  and  dance  with  us  a  measure ! 

[Olga  crouches,  bowed  with  grief.  After  a  mo- 
ment, Yolande,  all  unsuspecting,  comes  gaily 
in  from  right. 

Yolande. 

Olga,  why  came  you  not  across  the  fields  to  meet  me  ? 
Why  did  you 

[Olga  raises  her  head,  and  Yolande  for  a  mO' 
ment  is  speechless  with  horror. 


TROLL  MAGIC  143 

Olga 

(leaning  against  Yolande), 

'Twas  truth  that  Sigrid  spoke!  'Twas  truth, 
Yolande.  With  the  trolls  did  I  dance,  and  their  spell 
is  on  me! 

Yolande 
(gathering  all  her  forces). 

Quick,  then,  Olga!  The  more  you  fear  the  more 
the  spell  will  hold  you!  Turn  by  the  field  path  till 
you  reach  our  home. 

Olga. 

You^U  come  with  me,  Yolande? 

Yolande. 

I  may  not.  I  may  not.  If  a  spell  is  cast,  a  spell 
must  be  broken. 

[Olga  exits  slowly  and  falteringly  by  the  fields 
in  background,  Yolande  stands  waiting,  a 
noble,  erect  figure,  no  trace  of  fear  in  her 
aspect. 

Troll  Voices 

(coming  nearer  and  nearer). 

Mortal  woe  is  troll-folks'  treasure, 
Tears  and  sorrow  give  us  pleasure, 
Come  and  tread  with  us  a  measure ! 

l^The  trolls  enter  with  music  as  before. 


144  TROLL  MAGIC 

Bergmoss 

(perceiving  Yolande). 

Another  maid  to  charm!  Brothers,  fortune  is  with 
us! 

Thorncap 

(approaching    Yolande,    who    stands    with    her    head 
turned  from  them). 

Turn,  turn,  pretty  maiden!  There  is  music  here 
for  your  pleasure! 

Troldar 

(seeing  that  she  does  not  turn). 
This  sward  was  meant  for  dancing! 

Yolande 

(turning  and  looking  at  them  with  feigned  hesitancy), 

I  have  been  warned,  and  yet — and  yet !    Should 

looking  do  more  harm  than  listening?     I  heard  your 
music  as  you  came. 

Shagstone. 

The  maid  who  listens  to  warnings  is  a  foolish  maid ! 
Young  feet  were  made  for  pleasure ;  and  next  to  listen- 
ing comes  dancing,  pretty  maiden! 


TROLL  MAGIC  145 

YOLANDE. 

The  path  by  which  I  came  was  in  the  sunlight.  I 
am  too  parched  for  dancing. 

[Seats  herself  on  log,  center. 

Bat's-Eye. 

There^s  a  pool  here,  gentle  maiden.  Cool  are  its 
waters  to  the  lips,  and  grateful. 

YOLANDE 

(turning  indifferently), 

A  pool  fed  by  some  stream  I  know  not.  E'en  though 
its  water  were  crystal  clear  I  would  not  drink,  nimble 
troll-folk. 

Owl's-Ear. 

(craftily  and  hastily). 

Try  our  fruits,  then,  gentle  maiden. 

YOLANDE 

(with  pretended  indifference). 
Have  you  grapes  to  ofEer  me? 

Owl's-Ear. 
Luscious  grapes,  gentle  maiden. 


146  TROLL  MAGIC 

YOLANDE 
(touching  them). 

Are  they  as  pleasing  to  the  taste  as  to  the  eye?     Nay! 
Nay!     'Tis  only  their  juice  I  care  for!     Take  them 

back  again,  nimble  troll-folk,  unless (Draws  vial 

from  folds  of  dress,  and  makes  gesture  of  extracting 

juice  from  grapes.)     I  can  taste  the  juice  of  them,  so! 

[^Pours  out  perfume  which  the  vial  contained 

and,  seating  herself  on  mossed  log,  begins  to 

squeeze  juice  from  grapes, 

Shagstone 
(as  trolls  watch  her,  somewhat  uneasily). 
What  are  you  doing,  pretty  maiden  ? 

YOLANDE. 

Can  you  not  see,  nimble  troll-folk? 

Bergmoss 
(aside  to  Shagstone), 
Let  her  alone.     We  shall  not  charm  her  else. 

[Yolande  rises, 
Bergmoss. 

Drink  the  wine,  sweet  maid,  and  then  come  dance 
with  us.     The  music  calls  you. 

[^The  music,  which   has  been  sounding  softly, 
now  swells  louder. 


TROLL  MAGIC  147 

YOLANDE. 

I  will  neither  drink  of  the  vial  nor  dance  with  you. 

[Music  grows  fainter. 

Trolls 
(angrily,  beginning  to  surge  about  her). 
Give  us  the  vial! 

YOLANDE 

(clearly  and  courageously). 

That  which  is  mine  I  will  not  return.     With  the 
cross-sign  I  mark  it. 

l^She  holds  the  vial  aloft  in  full  view  of  the 
trolls  and  audience.  As  she  makes  the  sign 
of  the  cross  on  the  vial  the  trolls  cower  and 
draw  together.  But  the  moment  after  the 
sign  is  made  they  form  a  circle  again. 

Bergmoss. 

Seize  her!     Seize  her!     She  has  not  put  the  cross- 
sign  on  herself!     She  cannot  escape  us. 

[General  commotion.  The  trolls  instantly  seize 
Yolande,  holding  her  hands  so  that  she  can- 
not make  the  cross-sign  on  herself.  Yolande 
shows  no  sign  of  fear. 


148  TROLL  MAGIC 

Thorncap. 
What  shall  we  do  with  her,  Bergmoss? 

Bergmoss 

(cunningly). 

Let  us  bind  her  to  the  blasted  troll-tree.  It  is  a 
spot  where  none  pass  in  the  night-time.  Let  the  night 
mists  and  the  shadows  listen  to  her  cries.  (To 
Yolande.)  You  shall  bide  here  alone,  pretty  maiden. 
The  night  mists  are  dank  in  these  meadows.  How  like 
you  the  troll-folks'  revenge? 

Owl's-Ear 

(delightedly). 

Harken  to  Bergmoss,  wisest  of  trolls!  Come,  hasten, 
hasten !     The  maid  must  be  bound ! 

[Trolls  scamper  into  wood,  at  left,  and  return 
with  a  rope  that  looks  as  if  it  were  fash- 
ioned of  twisted  moss,  gray  and  strong, 

Bergmoss. 
Test  it!     Test  it! 

{^Trolls  pull  rope.  It  does  not  give.  They 
smile,  grimly  delighted.  Yolande  offers  no 
resistance.  They  begin  to  bind  her  to  the 
tree. 


TROLL  MAGIC  I49 

Snake-Lip. 

Who  does  not  dance  with  the  trolls  shall  pay  full 
dearly ! 

Bat's-Eye. 
'Twere  wiser  to  have  danced,  pretty  maiden. 

[A  churchbell  begins  tolling  in  the  distance. 

Bergmoss 
(pausing  with  a  look  of  fear). 
What  sound  is  that? 

Shagstone 

(likewise  pausing), 

Sound? 

Snake-Lip 

(clapping  his  hands  to  his  ears). 

A  churchbell! 

Bergmoss 

(terrified). 

It  is  the  ringing  of  a  churchbell!  Quick,  brothers, 
to  the  troll-forest!  Swift!  Or  its  sound  will  blight 
us! 


150  TROLL  MAGIC 

Trolls 

(in  wild  panic). 

The  churchbell!  The  hour  for  its  ringing!  A 
blight!     'Tis  the  churchbell! 

[  They  snatch  up  such  salvers  of  fruit  as  lie  near- 
est them  and  rush  off,  helter-skelter,  into 
forest,  A  moment's  pause,  during  which 
Yolande  struggles  to  free  herself.  The  rope 
has  been  but  half-tied,  and  presently  she  is 
loosed,  Olga,  meantime,  has  staggeringly 
crossed  the  fields  again,  her  face  pale  with 
age  and  fear.  She  comes  forward  from' 
background, 

Yolande 
(seeing  Olga). 
Sister! 

Olga 

(faintly). 

The  .  .  .  path  ...  to  our  home  .  .  .  'tis  long 
and  lonely.  .  .  .  The  spell  is  working  its  evil.  ...  I 
feared  to  fall  by  the  field  path  ...  I  feared  ...  I 
feared.  ... 


TROLL  MAGIC  151 

YOLANDE 

(passionately). 

Lift  up  your  head,  my  Olga.  There  is  that  which 
shall  break  evil  spells!  There  is  that  which  shall  set 
troll-magic  at  nought.     (Gives  vial.)     Drink  deeply! 

[Shields  Olga  with  her  cloak,  as  if  against  the 
evening  wind.  The  afternoon  has  been 
waning.  They  stand  in  the  last  rose  of  the 
sunset. 

Olga 

(her  voice  weak  at  first,  and  then  growing  stronger  and 
stronger). 

'Tis  a  wondrous  draught,  my  sister.     It  sets  my  pulse 

a-stirring!     A  wondrous  potion,  surely!     At  your  own 

peril  you  gained  it!     At  your  own  peril  you  saved  me! 

\_Olga  turns,  and  as  Yolande's  sheltering  cloak 

is  removed,  it  is  seen  that  Olga  is  again  fair 

and  young. 

YOLANDE 

(tenderly). 
To  love  is  to  serve,  my  sister. 

Olga. 

And  to  be  wilful  is  to  bring  grief!  Bitterly  have  I 
learned  it.  I  see  now  that  those  who  have  traveled 
the  road  before  us  are  wiser  than  we! 


152  ,  TROLL  MAGIC 

YOLANDE. 

Much  have  I  fathomed,  too,  my  Olga.  To  those 
who  strive  w^Ithout  fear,  all  things  are  possible.  Put 
back  your  hood ! 

\_Olga  puts  back  the  hood  of  the  cloak  she  is 
wearing, 

Olga 

(softly  touching  her  own  hair). 

The  gray  has  gone,  Yolande !     The  spell  is  broken ! 

[The  rose  of  sunset  has  faded  to  the  gray  of 
twilight. 

Yolande 

(as  they  stand  a  moment  with  faces  upraised). 

And  yonder  in  the  heavens  a  star  is  shining — a  glim- 
mering lamp  to  guide  our  footsteps.  Come,  sister  .  .  . 
home! 

[Through  the  gathering  dusk  they  cross  the 
fields  and  disappear  in  the  background.  The 
evening  falls.    The  play  ends. 


THE  THREE  WISHES 

(Trois  Souhaits) 
A  French  Folk  Play 


CHARACTERS 

ANDRf    ReNAUD 

LiZETTE^  his  wife 
The  Stranger 


THE  THREE  WISHES 

Source 

"  The  Three  Wishes  "  (Perrault's  version)  is  one 
of  the  best  known  of  all  French  folk  tales.  Other  ver- 
sions of  the  same  story  exist  in  Germany,  Sweden,  and 
England. 

Stage  Setting 

The  setting  for  the  schoolroom  stage  is  very  simple. 
The  hearth,  a  box  covered  with  gray  canvas  or  heavy 
gray  wallpaper  bulked  to  represent  stone,  and  marked 
with  black  and  white  chalk.  Two  red  electric  bulbs 
placed  in  this  improvised  hearth  will  give  a  splendid 
fire-glow  effect.  If  these  cannot  be  had,  red  and  yel- 
low tissue  paper,  with  a  glint  of  tinsel,  will  serve.  The 
background  and  sides  of  the  room  can  be  formed  by 
screens  covered  with  sacking  or  brown  burlap.  Fagots 
should  be  placed  by  the  fire.  The  table  and  chairs  can 
be  supplied  from  the  ordinary  schoolroom  furniture. 

Costumes 

ANDRf  Renaud.  a  white  soft  shirt,  with  full 
sleeves    somewhat    resembling    what    are    known    as 

155 


156  THE  THREE  WISHES 

"  bishop  sleeves/*  Full  dark  breeches.  A  vest  of  a 
dark  color,  with  tarnished  buttons.     Sabots. 

LiZETTE.  Dark-blue  w^oolen  skirt,  ankle  length.  A 
black  velvet  peasant  bodice.  White  chemisette. 
Cream-colored  apron,  with  small  green  and  scarlet  bor- 
der. Sabots.  (Shoes  covered  with  heavy  wrapping- 
paper,  shaped.) 

The  Stranger.  Leaf-brown  suit,  with  a  long 
brown  cloak,  preferably  lined  in  scarlet.     Scarlet  cap. 


THE  THREE  WISHES* 

Scene:  A  Breton  kitchen,  the  home  of  Andre 
Renaud  and  Lizette,  A  cobbled  hearthstone  at  left. 
A  shelf  above  it  with  iron  candlesticks,  and  some  bits 
of  pewter  ware.     An  iron  pot  simmers  on  the  fire. 

In  the  background  a  door  opening  on  the  road  with- 
out. On  each  side  of  the  door  small  windows,  cur- 
tained in  chintz. 

In  the  center  of  the  room  a  plain  pine  table.  On 
each  side  of  the  table  two  wooden  chairs,  very  quaint 
in  shape. 

Against  the  right  wall  a  spinning-wheel,  a  cupboard, 
and  another  chair.  The  room  has  an  air  of  neatness 
and  plain-living.  At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  Lizette  is 
lighting  a  candle  which  she  places  on  the  table.  Its 
bluish  flame  sends  a  flickering  shadow  on  one  side  of 
her  white  cap;  while  the  other  side  of  her  cap  catches 
a  rosy  reflection  from  the  glow  of  the  fire,  Lizette's 
somewhat  shrewish  face  is  half -hidden  as  she  bends. 
She  wears  a  laced  peasant  bodice,  woolen  skirt,  and 
wooden  shoes, 

Andre  is  poking  the  fire.  He  is  costumed  in  the 
loose  shirt,  full  breeches,  and  sabots  of  a  man  of  his 
class. 

*  Copyright,  1910,  by  The  Churchman, 

15? 


158  THE  THREE  WISHES 

The  tableau  is  held  for  an  instant  after  the  curtain 
rises,  so  that  the  effect  it  presents  is  like  a  Boutet  de 
Monvel  painting. 

LiZETTE 

(shielding  her  candle  with   her  hand). 

Heaven  save  us,  w^hat  a  draught  there  is!  I  can 
scarcely  strike  a  light !     Draw  the  curtains  fast,  Andre ! 

Andr^ 

(crossing  to  window). 

Hark  to  the  wind,  Lizette!  (Looks  out,)  You 
should  see  the  leaves!  They  are  dancing  across  the 
ground  like  so  many  children  around  a  Fairy  Tree. 
And,  in  spite  of  the  gusts,  there's  not  a  cloud  in  the 
sky,  and  the  road  lies  white  and  lonely  in  the  moon- 
light. 

Lizette 

(going  to   and  fro  from   cupboard  with,  cups,  plates, 

bread-platter,  black   bread,  cheese,  etc., 

which  she  places  on  the  table). 

And  lonely  and  white  it  will  be  only  a  few  v/eeks 
hence  when  the  snow  is  at  our  very  doors,  and  we 
with  only  enough  wood  to  keep  the  hearth  a-blaze.  I 
wish  we  had  such  chimney-logs  as  they  burn  in  the 
great  chateau  on  the  hill. 


THE  T^REE  WISHES  I59 

Andr^ 

(grumbling). 

Little  good  that  will  do  us  when  we  have  nothing 
to  roast  on  them.  We've  no  fat  fowls  to  be  cooking 
every  day,  nor  sweetbreads  nor  wines  to  be  tempting 
our  palates. 

LiZETTE 
(  complainingly  ) , 
I  wish  we  lived  in  a  great  house,  Andre. 

Andr]^. 

Or  could  ride  in  a  coach  like  the  viscount  and  his 
lady. 

LiZETTE 

(with  a  magnificent  gesture). 

Up  the  road  to  our  chateau!  Often  I  picture  it! 
Ah,  how  I  wish  that  it  were  true!  Such  sights  as 
would  draw  all  the  neighbors!  (JVith  emphasis,) 
Rose-gardens ! 


Pasties  1 


Terraces! 


Andr^. 


LiZETTE. 


i6o  THE  THREE  WISHES 

ANDRjg. 

Truffles! 

LiZETTE. 
I  wish 

[The  wind  without  gives  a  mocking,  derisive 
shriek*     Lizette  starts. 

ANDRf. 

It  IS  only  the  wind,  Lizette. 

Lizette. 

Day  of  my  life,  but  it  makes  me  shiver!     And  yet 
you  say  it  is  a  clear  night,  Andre  ? 

ANDRf. 

Of  a  crystal  clearness,   Lizette.     Clear   as  White 
Magic. 

Lizette 

(with  a  sniff). 

White  Magic,  indeed ! 

Andr^. 

Nay,  now,  Lizette,  those  words  are  ill-spoken.     Does 
not  Mammet  Boison  declare  that  on  Autumn  nights  en- 


THE  THREE  WISHES  i6i 

chantments  walk  abroad,  and  that  shadows  are  not  the 
only  things  astir  beneath  the  moon's  light  ? 

LiZETTE. 

Old  wives'  folly,  Andre.  Old  wives'  folly.  Those 
who  sit  long  by  the  hearthstone  begin  to  tell  tales  and 
dream  dreams!  (A  knock  on  the  door  without.) 
There  now,  Andre,  there's  some  village  gossip,  FU  be 
bound.  Open  the  door.  It  may  be  either  Jacques  or 
Frangois. 

The  Stranger 

(entering  as  Andre  lifts  the  latch,  garbed  in  leaf -brown, 

with  a  scarlet  cap  and  swirling  brown  cloak 

that  suggests  a  spirit  of  Fall), 

Neither,  good  madam.     You  have  quite  mistaken. 

LiZETTE 

(hospitably). 

Well,  then,  Monsieur,  the  welcome  that  we  would 
have  given  to  Jacques  or  Frangois  is  given  to  you  in- 
stead.    Will  you  not  sup  with  us? 

The  Stranger 
(crossing  to  hearth), 

I  thank  you,  no.  I  have  but  little  time  to  stay.  I 
will  but  warm  my  hands  and  be  going. 


i62  THE  THREE  WISHES 

AndrjI. 
Are  you  strange  to  these  parts,  Monsieur  ? 

LiZETTE 

(aside). 

Be  still,  Andre!  He  may  know  these  parts  as  well 
as  you ! 

The  Stranger. 

I  am  as  strange  to  them  as  the  wind  that  blows  to 
you  from  across  the  world,  and  as  familiar  with  them 
as  the  smoke  that  rises  from  your  chimney. 

[As  he  speaks  Lizette  looks  at  htm  in  doubt  as 
to  how  to  take  his  words,  a  doubt  which 
slowly  gives  place  to  belief  and  amazement. 

Andr^. 
Have  you  relatives  hereabout.  Monsieur? 

The  Stranger. 

Aye,  truly.  I  am  near  kin  to  the  Autumn  leaves, 
and  first  cousin  to  the  mists  of  evening. 

Andre. 

The  saints  preserve  us! 

[Lizette  still  stares. 


I 


THE  THREE  WISHES  163 

The  Stranger. 

Often  have  I  passed  down  the  road  by  your  'door, 
tand  always  have  I  heard  you  wishing,  wishing.  And 
since  it  is  the  way  with  wishes  that  sooner  or  later  they 
must  be  fulfilled,  I  am  come  to  make  you  a  gift.  And 
as  sign  and  symbol  that  what  I  say  is  true,  I  bring  you 
a  branch  from  a  Fairy  Tree.  (Places  branch  with 
Autumn  leaves  on  shelf  above  hearthstone,  and  then 
moves  toward  the  door,  Lizette  in  right  foreground, 
and  Andre  in  left  foreground,  take  a  step  in  the 
stranger  s  direction,  their  eyes  never  leaving  his,) 
Three  wishes  will  I  give  you,  and  they  will  all  come 
true,  so  look  well  how  you  do  your  wishing! 

\^He  pauses  by  the  door  with  arm  upraised,  the 
cloak  falling  back  from  it  fantastically. 
The  wind  shrieks  without,  the  door  claps  to 
again,  and  he  is  gone.  For  a  moment  Andre 
and  Lizette  stare  at  the  place  where  the 
Stranger  has  been  standing;  then  they  glance 
at  each  other,  and  Lizette,  with  a  toss  of 
the  head,  recovers  from  her  first  stupor  of 
surprise, 

Lizette. 

Look  well  to  the  wishing,  indeed !  Are  we  likely  to 
forget  it  ?  Come,  draw  up  your  chair,  Andre.  We  can 
talk  while  we  eat. 


i64  THE  THREE  WISHES 

Andre. 

We  did  not  even  stop  to  thank  him,  Lizette,  or  to  bid 
him  good  speed  on  his  journey. 

[They  take  their  seats  at  table,  but  are  much 
too  excited  to  think  of  eating, 

LiZETTB. 

Well,  such  news  is  enough  to  make  one  forget  all 
manners.  Think  of  it,  Andre.  Three  wishes !  What 
a  stir  well  make  among  the  neighbors!  Marie 
Michaud  will  be  green  with  envy.  Think  of  all  that 
we  shall  own. 

ANDRf: 
(fired  by  visions  of  splendor). 
We'll  have  a  coach  to  ride  in,  Lizette. 

Lizette. 

And  ril  have  a  robe  of  satin. 

Andre. 

A  suit  of  velvet  'for  me.  Knee-breeches.  Silver 
buckles. 

[He  rises;  his  supper  lies  forgotten. 


I 


THE  THREE  WISHES  165 

LiZETTE 

(also  rises  J  forgetting  her  supper), 

A  necklace  to  go  with  my  satins!  A  great  house! 
Servants.  A  driveway.  Such  sights  as  will  set  folk 
a-staring.  Picture  it,  Andre.  Such  splendor!  O,  it 
is  wonderful,  wonderful ! 

Andr^ 
(nodding). 
There's  never  been  anything  like  it! 

LiZETTE. 

Our  pockets  golden-lined.  It  is  astounding,  amaz- 
ing! 

Andr^ 
(by  hearthstone,  stirring  fire  under  pot). 

And  is  it  not  of  a  drollness  to  think  that  to-morrow 
we  shall  be  so  rich,  while  to-night  we  sit  here  by  the 
embers?  Ah,  how  I  wish  there  was  a  fine  brown 
pudding  in  that  pot,  and  then 

\^A  moment's  stupefaction,     Andre  and  Lizette 
look  at  each  other. 

LiZETTE 

(breaking  out  wildly), 

Andre !  Andre !  A  thousand  pests  upon  you !  You 
have  used  up  one  of  our  fine  wishes,  and  what  have 


i66  THE  THREE  WISHES 

you  got  for  it?  We  might  have  been  rich  with  that 
wish,  or  young,  or  long-lived,  or  a  thousand  other 
things,  and  now  you  have  ruined  it,  ruined  it! 


Andr^ 

(his  back  to  the  audience,  peering  into  pot,  his  hands 
apparently  shielding  his  eyes)., 

Well,  Fve  had  my  wish,  and  you  can  have  the  other 
two.     At  least  there  is  a  pudding,  Lizette. 

LiZETTE 

(outraged). 

A  pudding — a  pudding!  Ah,  I  could  break  my  heart 
to  see  you  so  careless  and  stupid,  staring  into  that  pot 
as  if  it  contained  gold!  Could  you  not  think f  Could 
you  not  see  where  your  folly  was  leading  you  ?  Ill-luck 
go  with  you  and  your  pudding!     I  wish  it  would  stick 

to  your  nose  and  then  you'd  remember  to Oh ! ! 

(Shrieks,  as  Andre  with  a  cry  raises  his  head,  the  pud- 
ding firmly  attached  to  his  nose,)  Andre!  Andre! 
The  saints  have  mercy !     What  will  become  of  us  now  ? 

Andre 
(in  a  muffled  voice). 
Cut  it!    Cut  it! 


THE  THREE  WISHES  167 

LiZETTE 

(seizing  knife  from  table,  and  vainly  trying  to  do  as  he 
desires), 

I  cannot!     I  cannot! 

Andre. 
Pull  it,  Lizette! 

LiZETTE. 

It  will  not  cut!     It  will  not  pull! 

Andre 
(imploring). 
Try  again,  Lizette. 

Lizette 

(doing  everything  in  her  power  and  talking  passion- 
ately). 

Day  of  my  heart!  I  can  do  nothing!  Nothing!  A 
thousand  sorrows  on  the  hour  the  Stranger  came  to  us! 
What  will  the  neighbors  say  when  they  see  you?  Oh, 
we  shall  be  a  laughing-stock!  Even  Marie  will  jeer  at 
us!  Oh,  Andre,  Andre,  the  nose  seems  to  grow  longer 
every  moment ! 

Andre. 

Wish  it  off,  then,  Lizette.  Wish  it  off.  I  gave  you 
the  other  wishes,  and  now  one  word  will  set  me  free. 


i68  THE  THREE  WISHES 

LiZETTE.  I 

Day  of  my  life,  do  you  think  me  crazed?     Do  you 
think  I  will  waste  the  last  wish  of  all  ? 

i 

Andre. 
Lizette,  I  implore  you! 

Lizette. 

Never ! 

Andre. 
Lizette,  I  beseech  you! 

Lizette. 
Never ! 

Andre. 
It  was  you  who  wished  it  on,  Lizette. 

Lizette. 

It  was  you,  Andre,  who  called  the  pudding  into  the 
pot,  not  I. 

Andre. 

That  is  true,  Lizette.     I  cannot  deny  it.     And  yet 
one  wish 


THE  THREE  V/ISHES  169 

LiZETTE. 

With  that  one  wish  we  shall  be  rich  and  happy! 

Andre. 

Happy!  WeVe  far  from  rich,  Lizette,  it  is  true; 
yet  now  that  I  think  on  it,  weVe  always  had  enough. 

Lizette 
(greedily). 
And  now  well  have  nmore ! 

Andre. 

Harken,  Lizette!  What's  that?  A  sound?  I 
thought  I  heard  somebody  tapping. 

Lizette 

(listening). 

A  footstep?  Neighbors?  There  again  there's  tap- 
ping. (Andre  starts  for  the  door.  Lizette  with  a  look 
of  horror  darts  to  him,  utterly  losing  her  head  at  the 
thought  of  the  prying  folk  who  may  be  without,) 
Andre!  Andre!  Back!  Back!  I  spoke  in  jest. 
Oh,  not  for  all  the  riches  in  the  world  would  I  have 
the  neighbors  laugh  at  you!  Oh,  thank  the  saints  there 
is  one  w^ish  left,  and  with  that  wish  I  wish  that  the 
pudding  would  go!      (The  pudding  drops  off;  Lizette 


170  THE  THREE  WISHES 

opens  the  door,)  Why,  there's  not  a  soul  in  sight! 
'Twas  nought  but  the  Autumn  wind  a-rattling  at  the 
latch. 

Andre 

(with  instant  remorse), 

Lizette,  Lizqtte,  you  have  wasted  your  wishes! 

LiZETTE 

(wiping  her  eyes  on  her  apron). 

Wasted,  indeed!  Could  you  ride  in  a  coach  with  a 
nose  like  that,  or  sit  at  a  Lord  Mayor's  banquet? 

Andre. 

Banquet,  Lizette!  Never  speak  to  me  of  banquets! 
No,  nor  of  puddings,  be  they  great  or  small.  My  mind 
will  never  rest  till  I  see  this  one  is  ashes. 

[Pops  it  into  fire, 

Lizette. 

That's  it,  Andre.     Make  a  good  riddance. 

Andre 

(at  hearthstone). 

And  the  branch  of  the  Fairy  Tree,  Lizette?  What 
shall  we  do  with  it  ? 


THE  THREE  WISHES  171 

LiZETTE. 

If  I  were  you,  Andre,  I  would  burn  it,  and  that  right 
quickly.     I've  had  enough  of  magic  for  one  evening. 

Andre 
(Uill  holding  branch). 

Nay,  look,  Lizette,  at  the  leaves  of  the  Fairy  Tree. 
See,  one  of  them  unrolls,  and  there  is  something  written 
on  it! 

[Leaf  unrolls,  a  kind  of  scarlet  parchment, 

Lizette 

(holding  candle). 

Read  it,  Andre.     You  are  a  keener  scholar  than  I. 

Andre 

(reads), 

"  Andre  and  Lizette,  beware  of  too  many  wishes.  It 
is  better  to  have  enough  of  anything  than  too  much.'' 

Lizette. 
That  must  be  the  Stranger's  message  to  us,  Andre. 

Andre. 
To  us  and  no  other. 

[Puts  branch  into  fire. 


172  THE  THREE  WISHES 

LiZETTB 
(putting  down  candle). 
The  Stranger  spoke  truth,  Andre. 

Andre 
(rubbing  his  nose  reflectively). 
He  did,  indeed,  Lizette. 

LiZETTE. 

Let's  eat  our  black  bread  and  be  thankful ! 

\^They  take  their  places  at  the  table  as  the  cur* 
tain  falls. 


A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS 
A  Lincolnshire  Folk  Play 


CHARACTERS 
The  Wise  Woman  of  the  Fells 

DURLOCK 

Elsbeth 


A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS 

Source 

"  A  Brewing  of  Brains  ''  is  adapted  from  one  of 
the  best  known  folk  tales  of  the  Lincolnshire  Fells.  In 
its  story  form  it  bears  the  title  of  ''  A  Pottle  o'  Brains/' 

Stage  Setting 

As  in  the  other  plays,  the  plainest  of  school  furniture 
can  be  used  for  this  interior.  Screens  covered  with 
brown  burlap  can  form  the  right  and  left  walls  and 
background.  A  box  hearthstone,  with  fireglow  of  red 
electric  bulbs,  or  scarlet  and  yellow  tissue  paper  flames. 
A  spinning-wheel  fashioned  of  two  small  wooden  wagon 
wheels  fastened  to  a  wooden  frame.  A  painted  screen 
for  the  scene  beyond  the  threshold.  The  dried  fruits 
can  be  easily  fashioned  of  tissue  or  crape  paper. 

Costumes 

The  Wise  Woman  of  the  Fells.  A  black  robe, 
and  black  cloak.     A  black  hood-cap. 

Durlock.  Dark  knee-breeches.  Soft  white  shirt, 
with  full  sleeves. 

Elsbeth.  a  simply-made  dress  of  pale-blue  cham- 
bray,  ankle-length,  elbow-sleeved,  and  with  crossed 
white  kerchief. 

175 


A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS* 

Scene:  The  room  of  the  Wise  Woman  of  the  Fells, 
a  Lincolnshire  kitchen.  In  the  background  a  door  open- 
ing on  the  road.  Beyond  the  door  a  stretch  of  green  and 
a  glimpse  of  blue  sky. 

At  the  left  a  hearthstone.  On  the  embers  a  caldron, 
brewing.  On  the  shelf  above  the  hearth  some  strings 
of  dried  fruit,  bunches  of  savory  herbs,  and  an  earthen- 
ware dish  or  so. 

At  the  right  a  bench  along  the  wall. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  the  Wise  Woman  is  seated 
by  the  hearthstone,  spinning.  Her  hair  is  gray,  her  face 
lined  and  keen.  She  wears  a  dark  woolen  robe,  and 
over  her  head  a  hoodlike  cap.  On  the  back  of  her  chair 
rests  a  dark  cloak,  and  near  her  on  the  floor  a  shears, 
and  a  small  bag  for  gathering  herbs*  The  time  is  mid- 
afternoon  in  Spring, 

A  moment  after  the  curtains  rise  Durlock  comes  to 
the  outside  door.  He  is  a  tall  honest-faced  lad,  and 
his  speech  is  as  direct  as  his  glance. 

Durlock. 
Goode'en  to  you,  Mistress. 

•Printed  by  arrangement  with  Popular  Educator, 
177 


178  A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS 

The  Wise  Woman. 
Goode'en  to  yourself,  young  Durlock. 

DURLOCK 

(entering). 
How  did  you  know  my  name? 

The  Wise  Woman. 

How  do  I  know  the  names  of  the  rushwort  and  the 
thornbush?  Do  I  not  often  see  you  standing  at  the 
door  o'  the  little  house  where  you  live  alone  ?  And  on 
shadowy  nights  when  the  moon  is  white  and  the  air  is 
full  o*  the  sounds  o'  Spring,  do  I  not  hear  you  go 
whistling  down  the  roadway? 

Durlock 
(simply). 
Then  mayhappen  you  know  what  brings  me? 

The  Wise  Woman. 

Mayhappen  I  do.  Folk  do  not  call  me  the  Wise 
Woman  for  nothing.  Still,  my  lips  are  not  thy  lips, 
and  those  that  need  must  ask. 

Durlock. 
*Tis  to  beg  your  counsel  I  am  come. 


A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS  179 

The  Wise  Woman. 


Aye. 


r 


DURLOCK 
(embarrassed). 
And — and  to  buy  somewhat  from  you,  also. 

The  Wise  Woman. 
Aye. 

DuRLOCK 

(very  earnestly), 
'Tis  brains  I  am  needing,  Mistress. 

The  Wise  Woman, 

Brains! 

DuRLOCK 
(still  more  earnestly). 
Have  you  none  for  sale? 

The  Wise  Woman 
(sharply). 
Calf's  brains,  or  sheep's  brains? 


i8o  A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS 

DURLOCK. 

Nay,  Mistress,  I  mean  it  in  no  jest.  'Tis  real  true 
brains  I  would  have! 

The  Wise  Woman 

(still  sharply). 

Do  you  think  I  keep  them  in  a  bag,  or  strung  from 
the  beams  like  dried  fruit? 

DURLOCK. 

Nay,  Mistress,  'tis  brains  of  my  own  I  would 
have,  and  neighbors  tell  me  that  at  the  hearth  of  the 
Wise  Woman  o'  the  Fells  a  lad  may  find  them. 
(Eagerly,)     Have  you  none  for  sale? 

The  Wise  Woman. 

That  depends  on  the  kind  you  would  buy.  If  it's 
soldier's  brains,  or  scholar's  brains,  or  King's  brains 
you're  wanting,  I've  none  for  you.  But  if  it's  plain 
everyday  brains 

DuRLOCK 

(greatly  relieved). 
That's  the  kind,  good  Mistress! 

The  Wise  Woman. 

Well,  then,  maylike,  you'll  gain  them  here,  if  you'll 
gain  them  at  all.     But  first  tell  me  why  you  think 


A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS  i8i 

you're  needing  them.     If  you've  thriven  without  them 
all  these  years,  'tis  strange  to  be  wanting  them  now. 


[       '  DURLOCK 

(quite  simply). 

The  older  I  grow,  good  Mistress,  the  more  I  feel 
the  lack.  At  first  it  was  about  the  sheep  that  I  must 
learn.  And  then  it  was  about  the  plowing  and  seed- 
ing.    And  now — and  now 

\^Looks  at  her  beseechingly. 

The  Wise  Woman 
(glancing  at  him  keenly). 
How  do  you  know  you  are  stupid  ? 

DuRLOCK 

(sitting  on  bench  at  right), 

Jan  the  miller,  and  Shadrack  the  blacksmith,  they 
have  told  me  so.  And  when  I  began  to  study  what 
best  I  could  do  about  it,  they  told  me  to  be  seeking 
counsel  here. 

The  Wise  Woman. 
Why  come  they  not  themselves  ? 


i82  A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS 

DURLOCK 

(quite  simply  and  without  malice). 

Because  they  need  no  further  wit,  good  Mistress. 
They  are  wise  enough  already.  None  can  teach  them 
more. 

The  Wise  Woman 
(to  herself). 
There  is  a  name  for  that  kind  of  wisdom! 

DuRLOCK. 

What  say  you,  Mistress? 

The  Wise  Woman. 

Nought,  lad,  that  has  to  do  with  me  or  ye.  Is  your 
land  as  thriving  as  that  of  Jan  the  miller? 

DuRLOCK 
(nodding). 
Truly,  good  Mistress. 

The  Wise  Woman. 

And  IS  not  your  roof  as  stoutly  thatched  as  that  of 
Shadrack  ? 


A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS  183 

DURLOCK 

(plainly  puzzled). 
Aye,  that  it  is. 

The  Wise  Woman. 
Are  not  your  flocks  well-fleeced? 


DuRLOCK 

(nodding). 

Well-fleeced  and  fat.  But,  Mistress,  my  wits  are 
poor  and  I  would  mend  them.  I  am  slow  to  think  and 
heavy. 

The  Wise  Woman. 

Then  FU  get  brains  for  you,  mayhappen.  But  my 
price  of  brains  is  to  answer  me  this:  (Leans  forward 
impressively.)  What  is  it  that  is  round  and  shining 
and  is  not  gold?  What  is  it  that  runs  without  feet? 
What  is  loveliest  in  the  world,  and  what  is  luckiest? 
These,  while  I  leave  ye!  There  are  still  more  herbs  to 
be  gathered — (Picks  up  shears  and  herb  bag.) — for  a 
lass  comes  at  sunset  for  a  posset  for  her  grandam. 

[^Exit  Wise  Woman.  Durlockj  who  had  risen 
while  she  made  her  exit,  now  seats  himself 
again  on  bench,  right. 


i84  A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS 

DURLOCK 

(to  himself). 

What  is  it  that  is  shining  and  is  not  gold  ?     What  is 

it    that    runs    without    feet Nay!     Nay!     The 

Wise  Woman  has  me  there!  Three  riddles!  And 
each  one  seems  harder  than  the  other.  What — is — it — 
that — is — round  —  and  —  shining  —  and  —  is  —  not — 
gold 

l^SitSj  head  in  hands,  deeply  thinking, 

Elsbeth 

(singing  in  the  distance,  her  voice  growing  nearer  and 
nearer.     Air:  ''Sally  in  Our  Alley"), 

When  soft  winds  blow  and  brooklets  run 

And  blossoms  are  a-swaying, 
And  thatched  roofs  glisten  in  the  sun, 

O  that's  the  time  for  Maying! 

O  some  can  sing  of  kindling  blaze 

And  Winter  gusts  a-playing; 
But  give  to  me  the  hedgerow  ways — - 

Heigho!     Heigho  for  Maying! 

\^A  step  in  the  doorway,  Durlock  looks  up, 
Elsbeth  stands  on  the  threshold,  a  pretty  lass 
with  a  face  like  a  hawthorn  blossom. 


A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS  185 

DURLOCK 
(rising). 
Goode'en  to  you,  lass! 

Elsbeth 
(prettily). 
Goode'en  to  yourself.     Is  the  Wise  Woman  within  ? 

DuRLOCK. 

She'll  be  soon  returning 

Elsbeth 
(leaning  against  door). 
Mayhappen,  then,  I'll  wait. 

DuRLOCK 

(awkwardly). 
H — ^have  you  come  to  buy  brains,  lass? 

Elsbeth 

(laughing). 

Nay,  Fve  come  to  fetch  a  posset  for  my  grandam. 
I  wish  that  when  she  sits  at  her  door  her  old  eyes 
could  have  so  fine  a  scene  as  this !     (Looks  with- 


i86  A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS 

out.)  The  sun  all  glorious  and  the  river  smiling  in  the 
light.  (Seeing  Durlock  standing  in  embarrassed 
silence,)  It  would  be  easier  talking  if  I  knew  your 
name.     My  own  is  Elsbeth. 

Durlock. 
And  mine  is  Durlock. 

Elsbeth 
(half-shyly). 
IVe  often  seen  you  passing  down  the  road. 

Durlock. 

And  IVe  watched  you  spinning  by  your  doorway. 
(Gazing  at  her.)  Only — only  it  seems  as  if  I  never 
saw  you  till  now!  Why,  your  hair  is  like  the  brown 
of  oak-tree  branches,  and  your  eyes  like  the  star-flowers 
that  look  at  one  in  the  Springtime! 

Elsbeth. 

Was  it  speeches  like  that  you  came  to  buy  of  the 
Wise  Woman? 

Durlock 

(bluntly). 

Nay,  lass.  *Twas  brains  I  was  to  gain  here.  *Tis 
stupid  I  am,  and  none  know  it  better  than  I. 


A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS  187 

Elsbeth. 

You  are  not  stupid  to  me,  Durlocfc.  And  as  for 
your  brains — has  the  Wise  Woman  promised  to  get 
them  for  you? 

DURLOCK. 

Aye,  lass,  so  she  says,  if  I  can  but  answer  her  riddles. 
Nay,  now  I  think  on  it,  mayhappen  you'll  help  me! 
(Joins  Elsbeth  at  doorway,)  What  is  it  that's  round 
and  shining  and  is  not  gold  ?  (Elsbeth  points  upward.) 
True,  lass,  true!  And  what  is  it  that  runs  without 
feet?  (Elsbeth  points  at  something  beyond  the 
meadows,)     Nay,  as  I  live,  by  your  help  I  have  guessed 

that  riddle  also!     And  now  for  the  other  two ! 

What  is  it  that's 

The  Wise  Woman 

(without). 

Goode'en  to  you,  lass.  .      . 

[Durlock  and  Elsbeth  stand  aside,  and  the  Wise 
Woman  enters. 

Elsbeth 
(with  a  courtesy). 
Goode'en  to  you,  Mistress. 

The  Wise  Woman. 

Yonder  is  the  posset  for  your  grandam.  (Keenly,  to 
Durlock,)     And  now,  lad,  for  the  brains  you're. after 


i88  A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS 

having!     What  is  it  that's  round  and  shining  and  is 
not  gold? 

DURLOCK 

(radiantly). 
The  sun ! 

The  Wise  Woman 

(glancing  at  Elsbethj  and  then  nodding  to  herself  as  if 
well  pleased). 

What  is  it  that  runs  without  feet? 

DuRLOCK. 

Surely,  the  river,  Mistress. 

The  Wise  Woman. 
And  what's  loveliest  in  the  world  ? 

DuRLOCK 

(with  inspired  candor). 

Why,  Mistress,  I  can  think  of  nothing  lovelier  than 
Elsbeth,  yonder. 

The  Wise  Woman 
(smiling  as  if  pleased). 
And  what's  luckiest? 


I  A  BREWING  OF  BRAINS  189 

DURLOCK 

V  (still  looking  at  Elsbeth). 

Myself — if  Elsbeth  will  have  me! 

[Elsbeth  comes  forward  and  slips  her  hand  into 
his  with  a  charming  grace. 

The  Wise  Woman. 

See  you  now,  lad,  you  are  likely  to  fare  better  than 
either  Jan  or  Shadrack ;  for  both  have  asked  her  in  vain ! 

DuRLOCK. 

But  the  brains  I  would  gain  from  you.  Mistress — 
you  promised  me  brains ! 

The  Wise  Woman. 

Lad !  Lad !  Can  you  not  see  that  you  already  have 
them?  Would  you  have  more  than  a  clever  wife? 
(Smiles  as  the  subtlety  of  her  stroke  dawns  on  Dur- 
lock,)  Nay,  then,  listen!  There  is  only  one  receipt 
for  brains,  and  it  is  made  of  equal  parts  of  humbleness 
and  seeking;  for  to  know  yourself  stupid,  and  to  be 
willing  to  learn,  is  to  run  on  the  highroad  to  Wisdom. 
(Turns  to  her  spinning,)  And  now,  goode'en  to  ye 
both! 

[Durlock  and  Elsbeth  exit  through  the  door  in 
background.  The  Wise  Woman  bend& 
above  her  spinning  with  a  luminous  smile. 

CURTAIN 


SIEGFRIED 
A  German  Folk  Play 


CHARACTERS 

Siegfried 

WOTAN  C' The  Wanderer") 

MiMi^  a  dwarf 

The  Voice  of  the  Forest 

Erda^  the  Earth  Goddess,  who  speaks  the  Prologue 


SIEGFRIED 

Source 

The  German  folk-epic  of  the  "  Nibelungen  Lied,"  of 
which  Siegfried  is  the  hero,  is  too  well  known  to  need 
repetition  here.  As  the  alliterative  verse  of  the  orig- 
inal is  almost  impossible  to  give  in  its  full  spirit,  a 
rythmic  prose  is  substituted,  based  on  the  meters  of  the 
''  Nibelungen  Lied's  "  best  known  translator,  Alfred 
Forman. 

Stage  Setting 

The  scene  is  adapted  with  a  view  to  the  difficulties  of 
a  small  stage,  and  for  this  reason  the  dragon  Fafner 
does  not  actually  appear,  and  the  bird-voice  which  gave 
w^arning  to  Siegfried  is  metamorphosed  into  the  Voice 
of  the  Wood,  an  incarnation  of  the  soul  of  the  forest 
speaking  directly  to  Siegfried.  For  this  reason,  too, 
the  forest-forge  scene,  and  the  scene  of  the  Neidhole  or 
dragon's  cave,  have  been  welded  into  one,  and  much  that 
is  in  Wagner's  "  Siegfried  "  has  of  necessity  been  left 
out.  The  scene  is  meant  to  be  simply  a  fragment  of 
Siegfried's  youth;  but  much  of  the  symbolism  of  the 
Ring  has  been  retained. 

While  the  play  is  primarily  designed  for  an  out-of- 
193 


194  SIEGFRIED 

door  production,  with  rustle  of  leaves,  and  sunlight 
a-slant  on  the  sward,  it  can  be  given  In  the  schoolroom 
with  little  trouble.  Screens  covered  with  green  burlap, 
or  green  cambric,  form  the  sides  and  background.  To 
these  screens  swinging  vines,  real  or  made  of  tissue 
paper,  are  securely  fastened.  A  green  floor-cloth.  A 
dozen  sheets  of  tissue  paper  cut  in  ribbons  or  leaf- 
shapes  and  strewn  underfoot  for  grass  and  leaves.  The 
rocks  are  brown  cambric  daubed  with  moss  green; 
black;  gray.  They  may  be  upbuilt  over  an  underpin- 
ning of  small  barrels  or  boxes.  Real  lichen  can  be 
fastened  to  them  if  it  is  to  be  had.  The  cave  of  the 
dragon  will  be  shaped  of  two  clothes-horses  and  daubed 
as  previously  described.  The  mouth  of  the  cave  should 
be  hidden  by  swinging  vines  and  the  interior  should  be 
quite  dark.  The  tree-trunk  which  contains  the  dryad- 
like  Voice  of  the  Wood  should  be  shaped  of  two  bar- 
rel-halves fastened  one  above  another  so  that  they  make 
a  tall  open  hollow.  This  should  be  securely  propped 
on  the  side  furthest  from  the  audience.  The  barrel 
should  be  covered  with  sacking  or  brown  burlap.  On 
this  paint  or  paste  green  streaks  for  moss,  and  fasten 
on  lichen  of  gray  paper.  Also  small  branches,  real  or 
artificial.  Across  the  barrel  tree-trunk  a  curtain  of 
brown  netting  through  which  the  dryad-like  figure  can 
be  seen.  When  the  Voice  of  the  Forest  begins  to  speak, 
this  curtain  is  deftly  pulled  aside.  The  forge  is  a  box 
painted  black,  with  a  shaped  black  cardboard  top.  On 
this  a  bit  of  metal  that  will  ring  when  it  is  struck. 
The  forge  tools  are  easy  to  imitate  or  procure.     The 


SIEGFRIED  195 

tarn-helm  (a  helmet)  may  be  shaped  of  cardboard  and 
covered  with  silver  paper.  The  music,  of  which  violin 
and  piano  arrangements  can  be  had,  should  be  played 
off  stage. 

Costumes 

Siegfried.  White  stockings  to  simulate  bare  feet. 
A  robe  of  skins  that  comes  to  a  little  below  the  knee, 
leaving  his  arms  and  neck  bare.  A  silver  chain  at  his 
waist,  with  a  hunting-horn  slung  to  it. 

MiMi.  A  black  goblinesque  suit.  A  peaked-crown 
cap.  Pointed  shoes.  Brown  belt.  His  nose  is  red- 
dened, his  eyebrows  heavily  darkened,  and  wrinkles  are 
drawn  on  his  brow. 

WoTAN.  A  long  robe  of  dull  gray,  resembling  those 
worn  by  the  early  Saxons,  falling  in  straight  folds  from 
neck  to  hem.  His  arms  and  neck  are  bare.  A  long 
traveler's  cloak  whose  hood  half-hides  his  face.  A  tall 
staff  in  his  hand.  If  this  cannot  be  arranged  for, 
draperies  of  any  solid  color  will  givG  the  same  effect. 

Erda^  the  Earth  Goddess.  A  white  robe  of  canton 
flannel,  soft  and  full,  falling  in  Greek  lines  to  the  floor. 
About  her  head  a  crown  of  silver  thickly  studded  with 
silver  beads.  Straight  silver  tinsel  (on  no  account  the 
crinkly  kind),  such  as  is  seen  on  Christmas  trees,  should 
glimmer  about  her  robe.  Since  Erda  rises  from  the 
earth,  her  robe  should  represent  the  frost  that  is  in  the 
ground. 

The  Voice  of  the  Forest.     Pale-green  net  robe 


196  .  SIEGFRIED 

for  this  dryad-IIke  creature,  with  an  under-robe  of  pale- 
green  cambric.  (Or  pale-green  cheesecloth,  if  the  rest 
cannot  be  had.)  Gauzy  green  floating  sleeves  that  half- 
hide  her  arms,  and  seem  to  melt  into  the  tree  itself. 
Tiny  green  leaves  and  branches  fastened  hamadryad- 
like to  her  fingers. 


PROLOGUE 

(Spoken  by  Erda,  the  Earth  Goddess) 

Mortals,  within  this  space  you  shall  behold 
A  wondrous  forest,  legendary,  old. 
Upon  one  hand  a  forge-fire,  burning  bright, 
Where  the  dwarf  Mimi  plies  his  trade  with  might; 
Upon  the  other,  where  dark  shadows  creep, 
The  dragon  Fafner  lies  encoiled  in  sleep. 
Ever  he  guards  a  hoard  of  gold,  a  ring, 
A  helmet  that  would  make  its  wearer  king. 
By  wiles  and  cunning  came  these  things  to  him, 
Yet  none  can  wrest  them  from  his  cavern  dim 
Save  one  who  never  knew  a  touch  of  fear. 
Therefore,  though  Mimi  forges  year  by  year 
At  many  swords,  hoping  to  gain  the  gold. 
His  very  cowardice  blows  the  forge-fire  cold. 
One  sword  he  has  that  wondrous  deeds  can  do. 
Broken  it  lies  and  must  be  forged  a-new. 
Nothung  its  name — a  steel-blue  shining  sword 
With  which  the  dwarf  still  hopes  to  reach  the  hoard. 
For  gold  and  gold  and  gold  is  all  his  thought ; 
For  this  his  strength  is  spent,  his  swords  are  wrought. 
Gold !     To  guard  gold  the  dragon  ever  sleeps ! 
Gold !     To  gain  gold  the  dwarf  his  forge-fire  keeps. 

197 


198  SIEGFRIED 

Dragon  and  dwarf!     Children  of  darkness,  they! 

While  Siegfried  is  as  radiant  as  the  day. 

Young  Siegfried,   forest-born   and   forest-bred, 

And  by  the  wily  Mimi  nurtured 

And  kept  in  ignorance  of  all  that  lies 

Beyond  the  edge  of  forest  mysteries, 

So  that  his  strength  to  Mimi's  plans  be  lent 

To  test  the  swords  that  Mimi's  skill  has  bent. 

This  is  the  tangled  web  the  Norns  have  spun. 

How  Siegfried  valiantly  his  freedom  won 

This  scene  shall  show :  Wotan  shall  tread  the  wold 

At  whose  spear-touch  are  mighty  thunders  rolled. 

Lord  of  the  lightning,  god  of  stormy  skies, 

He  treads  the  earth,  benignant,  stately,  wise. 

And  clear  as  silver  rain  there  shall  be  heard 

The  Forest  Voice :  sweet  as  the  note  of  bird 

It  mingles  with  the  green  leaves  whispering. 

The  wind's  soft  lilt,  the  rush  of  woodland  Spring. 

See,  then,  a  story  of  enchantment  old, 

A  forge,  a  cave,  a  Nibelung's  bright  gold ! 


SIEGFRIED* 

Scene:  A  deep  forest.  Time:  The  Spring,  At 
the  left  foreground  a  forge  with  tools,  a  sword  un- 
mended,  a  bellows,  a  melting-pot,  etc.,  etc.  Behind  it 
a  rocky  ledge,  on  which  rest  a  sword,  a  goblet,  etc. 
Beneath  this  ledge  a  natural  opening  in  the  rock,  used 
as  an  oven  by  Mimi,  The  forge-fire  is  glowing;  but  the 
oven-fire  nearly  spent. 

At  the  left  towards  the  background  a  tree  whose 
trunk  is  partly  open.  In  it,  half-veiled  by  brownish 
gauze,  stands  a  dryad-like  creature  robed  in  palest 
green,  and  with  unbound  tresses,  and  arms  extended 
as  if  they  were  part  of  the  tree,  half-covered  in  brown. 
This  figure  stands  motionless,  and  is  not  observed  by 
Mimi,     She  is  as  mute  as  she  is  motionless. 

At  the  right  of  the  stage,  like  a  deep  fissure  in  the 
rocks,  the  opening  of  the  dragon  s  cave,  partly  hidden 
by  long  sivinging  vines. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  Mimi  is,  working  at  the 
forge.  From  time  to  time  he  pauses,  looking  discon- 
tentedly at  the  pieces  of  the  sword,  Nothung,  which  he 
holds  in  his  hand.  The  hilt  is  heavy  and  golden; 
a-gleam  with  gems, 

*  Printed  by  arrangement  with  The  Normal  Instructor, 
199 


200  SIEGFRIED 

MiMI. 

Toil  without  guerdon!  Wearisome  task!  The 
splendldest  sword  that  ever  I  forge  the  hero-youth 
easily  smiteth  in  twain.  Yet  Nothung's  bits  were  he 
slow  to  rend — could  I  but  splice  the  cursed  splinters 
that  all  my  mind  will  not  teach  me  to  weld.  (Looks 
towards  the  Neidhole,  or  dragon  s  cave,)  Fafner  the 
dragon  then  would  I  conquer — he  who  guards  the 
Nibelung  gold.  The  ring  and  the  tarn-helm!  These 
would  I  own!  The  gold  I  must  have.  With  this 
sword  must  I  reach  it — with  Nothung  the  sword. 

Siegfried 
(in  distance). 
Hoya!     Hoya! 

MiMI 

(with  crafty  look). 

'Tis  Siegfried!  He  comes!  This  sword,  his  by 
right,  he  shall  never  obtain  till  I  find  that  my  hand  can- 
not forge  it. 

[Hides  sword  in  cleft  of  rockj  and  begins  to 
hammer  on  another  one. 

Siegfried 

(entering  buoyantly,  clad  in  rough  skins), 

Hoya!  Hoya!  Quick  with  the  forging!  Speed 
with  the  sword ! 


I 


SIEGFRIED  201 

MiMI. 

The  sword  well  have  I  set.  For  a  sharper  thou 
canst  not  wish. 

Siegfried. 

What  is  a  shining  weapon  to  me  if  weakness  shames 
its  steel?  (Snaps  sword  across  his  knee.)  Why,  'tis 
a  toy,  and  thou  callest  it  sword! 

MiMI 

(soothingly). 

Will  food  be  more  welcome?  I'll  fetch  thee  broth 
I  have  made! 

l^Turns  to  go  towards  back  of  stage. 

Siegfried 

(frowning:  it  is  evident  that  he  has  been  pondering  his 
wrongs  in  the  forest). 

Away  with  thy  broth  and  thy  brewing! 

MiMI 

(coming  forward). 
Is  this  the  wage  for  my  work? 

Siegfried 

(turning). 

What  wages,  then,  MIml,  have  I?  There  at  the 
forge  do  I  serve  thee.     (Indicates  broken  sword.)    Yet 


202  .    SIEGFRIED 

when  I  ask  of  thee  wisdom,  what  do  I  get  in  reply? 
Ever  thou  thwartest  me!  Ever  thou  keepest  me  here 
from  the  world.  Where  is  my  father?  Where  is  my 
mother?  How  comes  it  that  I  am  dwelling  alone  here 
with  thee  in  the  forest?  For  that  thou  art  no  kin, 
well  I  fathom.  Thy  hands  are  too  creeping  and  clutch- 
ing. The  shine  of  the  ore  in  the  rock  maketh  thy 
small  eyes  to  glisten.  No  kin  art  thou,  Mimi,  to  me. 
My  mother,  say!  And  my  father?  Speak,  ere  I  tear 
the  words  from  thee! 

Mimi 

(gasping). 

Thy  hands  from  my  throat  if  thou'st  hear!  (Sieg- 
fried  releases  him,)  Thou  hast  neither  father  nor 
mother.  Thy  mother  died  here  in  the  forest.  Thy 
father — who  he  was  I  know  not. 

Siegfried 

(his  hands  on  the  dwarfs  shoulders,  as  he  looks  at  him 
steadily). 

Mostly  thou  speakest  untruly.  But  this,  by  thy 
trembling,  is  truth.  (Turns  away.  Speaks  as  to  him- 
self,) Brave  must  have  been  my  tall  father.  Ten- 
der and  sweet  my  dear  mother.  Here  in  my  heart  do 
I  feel  it.  (Pacing  slowly  up  and  down,)  Forest-born 
am  I  and  lonely — and  yet  I  will  strive  as  beseemeth  a 
son  who  had  hero  for  father ;  whose  mother  was  gentle 
and  tender. 


SIEGFRIED     '  ao3 

MiMI 

(fawning). 

You  were  a  babe  in  this  forest.  Well  did  I  serve 
you  and  shield  you. 

Siegfried 

(scornfully). 

That  I  in  turn  might  give  service!  Mimi  gives 
nothing  for  nothing! 

MiMI. 

What  words  are  these,  Siegfried? 

Siegfried. 

You  know  full  well  that  you  cheat  me.  You  keep 
me  in  ignorance  here  so  that  I  may  not  stray  further. 

Mimi 
(cringing  and  shrinking). 
Never  before  have  you  spoken 

Siegfried. 

Never  before  would  you  listen.  You  would  have 
kept  me  your  chattel.  (With  face  for  a  moment  up- 
lifted, as  if  in  remembrance  of  the  hours  he  has  spent 
roaming  the  wood,  alone  save  for  his  own  thoughts.) 


204  SIEGFRIED 

But  in  the  wood  one  gains  wisdom.  In  me  to-day  there 
up-blazes  a  fire  that  would  burn  you  to  cinders,  did  you 
but  try  to  oppose  me! 

MiMI 

(to  shield  himself ,  and  divert  Siegfried's  thoughts). 
Suppose,  Siegfried,  that  I  were  your  kinsfellow? 

Siegfried. 

Kinsfellow?  You?  With  your  cringing?  (Turn- 
ing away,)  And  you  are  treacherous,  cruel.  You  tor- 
ture the  things  of  the  forest.  All  that  is  weaker  than 
you  are.  You  care  not.  You  spare  not.  No  hero- 
blood  beats  in  your  pulses.  A  hero  would  shield  what 
was  ^yeaker.  This  do  I  know — though  I  know  not 
how  hath  come  to  me  this  knowledge.  I  am  done, 
now,  Mimi,  with  bondage.  Now  will  I  hence  from 
the  forest  to  the  world  that  lieth  before  me. 

[Turns  lightly  towards  right  background. 

MiMI 

(craftily). 

Without  sword?  Without  helmet?  (Siegfried 
pauses;  Mimi  gives  a  wily  smile.)  I  tell  you  this  out 
of  kindness. 


I 


SIEGFRIED  205 

Siegfried 

(doubtfully). 

So  you  can  keep  me  forest-bound.     (Pauses,  uncer- 
tain.)    If  you  have  not  spoken  truly !     Long  and 

long  have  you  foiled  me.  (Turns  suddenly  on  Mimu) 
I  trust  no  tale  that  I  hear.  I  trust  the  sight  that  I  see. 
Give  me  a  sign.     A  token. 

MiMI 

(Seeing  that  unless  something  far  out  of  the  ordinary 
is  done  he  will  lose  his  hold  on  the  lad,  takes 
from    its    hiding-place    the    pieces    and 
splinters  of  Not  hung). 

The  sword,  then,  that  thy  mother  left  thee.     Dying 
here  in  the  forest,  she  left  thee  thy  father's  sw^ord. 

[Gives  it  to  Siegfried  reluctantly. 

Siegfried 

(forgetting  to  be  angry  at  Mimi  in  his  deep  joy  over 
his  new  possession). 

My   father's   sword!     The  sword   of  an   unknown 
father !     So  gain  I  the  sword  that  I  need. 

[With  the  receiving  of  the  sword  a  subtle 
change  passes  over  Siegfried.  He  no  longer 
receives  orders,  but  begins  to  give  them. 


2o6  ,    SIEGFRIED 

Siegfried 
(to  Mimi). 
Quickly  now,  shalt  thou  weld  it.  I  come  for  it  ere 
the  twilight.  (Turns  towards  background.)  Now  do 
I  wander  free  again!  The  forest  my  home,  the  wood 
my  roof-tree.  The  drifting  leaves  are  my  hearth !  Like 
the  wind  of  the  wood,  I  am  free !  Like  the  wind  of  the 
wood  I  can  go!  [ExitSj  running  blithely. 

Mimi 
(distractedly  calling  after  him). 
Siegfried!     Siegfried!     (To   himself,   despairingly.) 
Hence  he  storms,  and  here  I  stay!     How  shall  I  forge 
me  the  sword! 

\_Looks  at  Nothung  with  great  discouragement. 

The  Wanderer 
(entering  from  left,  towards  background). 
Smith  over-cunning,  hail!     Will  you  give  welcome 
to  a  guest  who  is  weary? 

Mimi 

(looks  at  The  Wanderer  sullenly,  and  then,  being  rather 

overawed  at  his  majestic  mien,  goes  to  the  oven 

in    cleft   at   left,   and   returns   with    a    rude 

earthen  goblet,  which  he  took  from  ledge 

above  cleft;  also  a  bowl  of  broth. 

He  gives   the   bowl   to   the 

Wanderer). 

Who  fares  so  far  in  the  forest? 


SIEGFRIED  207 

The  Wanderer 
(drinking  broth). 
Wanderer  they  call  me  in  the  world,  and  where  I 
go  I  am  welcome.  (Mimi  grudgingly  gives  goblet. 
He  is  quite  evidently  afraid  not  to  be  generous,) 
Giants  are  meek  to  me.  All  harken  to  him  whose  hand 
upholds  the  spear. 

[He  strikes  his  spear  on  the  ground.  Thunder 
rolls  in  the  distance. 

MiMI 

(in  a  terrified  J  shaken  whisper). 
Wotan ! 

[Wotan  bows  his  head.  Again  the  spear 
touches  the  ground.  Again  the  thunder 
rolls  in  the  distance, 

MiMI 

(awed). 
None  but  Wotan  art  thou!     Lord  of  the  thunders! 

The  Wanderer. 
Thou  hast  guessed  rightly. 

Mimi 

(more  boldly,  seeing  that  no  harm  has  come  from  the 

visit  of  his  illustrious  guest). 

Answer   me,   Wotan.     Now   thou   hast   sat   at   my 

hearthstone,  now  thou  hast  drunk  of  my  goblet — an- 


268  SIEGFRIED 

swer  me !  How  can  this  Nothung,  how  can  this  great 
sword  be  welded?  With  it  would  I  slay  a  dragon. 
Yet  forge  It  I  cannot.  Magic  the  sword  is!  Can  a 
hand  forge  it? 

The  Wanderer. 

A  hand  that  has  never  known  fear.  That  can  weld 
Nothung  a-new. 

MiMI 

(to  himself), 

A  hand  that  hath  never  known  fear 

[He  drops  the  hilt  of  the  sword  and  shakes  his 
head  hopelessly. 

The  Wanderer 

(continuing  gravely). 

Sure  IS  the  weapon  a  man  welds  for  himself.  He 
who  weldeth  his  weapon  and  knoweth  no  fear,  he  shall 
conquer  whatever  shall  come  In  his  path.  But  he  who 
Is  trembling  and  cringing,  nought  shall  he  conquer.  Fit 
food  for  dragons  is  he.  He  would  be  slain  by  a 
dragon.  (The  Wanderer  rises  majestically,)  For  thy 
goblet,  my  thanks! 

[Returns  it  to  Mimi,  and  then  exits  left  back- 
ground, the  way  he  came,  the  thunder  peal- 
ing as  his  spear  strikes  the  earth,  its  sound 


SIEGFRIED  209 

growing  fainter  and  fainter  as  he  goes 
further  away,  till  it  is  a  mere  ghost  of  a 
rumble.  Mimi,  who  has  listened  to 
Wotans  words  with  dawning  fear,  now 
looks  about  him  tremblingly  from  left  to 
right,  and,  shaken  by  a  sudden  ague  of  ter- 
ror, crouches  behind  the  forge, 

MiMI. 

Slain  by  the  dragon!  No!  No!  (Calls.)  Sieg- 
fried !     Siegfried ! 

[There  is  a  pause,  Mimi  huddles  behind  the 
forge.  After  a  moment  Siegfried  enters 
from  right  background.  He  comes  briskly 
towards  the  forge.  It  is  evident  that  he  has 
not  heard  Mimis  call, 

Siegfried. 

Why  fails  the  smith  ?  Low  is  the  forge-fire !  Where 
hath  he  sped?  (Looks  about,)  Mimi — where  art 
thou? 

Mimi 

(his  head  appearing  over  top  of  forge). 

Is  it  thou,  Siegfried,  and  no  other? 

Siegfried. 
Where  is  the  hammer?     Why  is  it  thou  cringest? 


210  SIEGFRIED 

MiMI 

(coming  out). 
Because  of — fear. 

Siegfried 
(interested). 
Fear?     What  is  fear? 

MiMI. 

The  thing  that  whispers  to  you  in  the  forest  and 
maketh  your  flesh  creep. 

Siegfried. 

Nought  ever  whispered  to  me  in  the  forest  save  the 
singing  and  sighing  of  leaves ! 

MiMI 

(shivering). 
And  the  shadows — strange  things  that  you  know  not. 

Siegfried. 
When  I  see  shadows  I  search  them. 

MiMI 

(with  look  of  fear  over  his  shoulder;  himself  unstrung 
by  what  he  is  describing). 

In  the  dark — it  is  then  that  fear  clutches. 


SIEGFRIED  211 

Siegfried. 

What  care  I  for  daylight  or  darkness?  The  wood 
IS  the  same  to  my  footsteps. 

MiMI. 

Well,  then,  fear  will  I  teach  thee.  Yonder,  look! 
There  is  the  Neidhole,  the  cave  of  the  great  dragon  Faf- 
ner. 

Siegfried 

(delighted). 

Never  have  I  seen  a  dragon!  Why  hath  he  never 
come  forward? 

MiMI. 

Because  thou  hast  never  aroused  him.  Terrible  is 
he  and  mighty.     Thee  would  he  snatch  at  a  mouthful. 

Siegfried. 

First  would  he  taste  of  my  weapon.  Weapon! 
Alas!  What  have  I!  (Remembering.)  Now,  as  I 
live!  The  sword  that  was  broken  FU  mend.  Quick! 
Fetch  it! 

MiMI 

(to  himself). 
Since  I  cannot  mend  it  myself 


1 


212  .  SIEGFRIED 

Siegfried 
(joyfully). 

To  dust  will  I  sunder  It,  and  then  rebind.  (Keeps 
up  the  heat  with  bellows.)  Tell  to  me  now  the  name 
of  the  sword  that  into  dust  I  have  sundered. 

[Hammers  at  anvil. 

MiMI 
(to  Siegfried), 

Nothung'  its  name  is.  (To  himself,  looking  darkly  at 
Siegfried.)  And  when  thou  hast  forged  it  and  met 
with  the  dragon,  may  each  be  eased  of  his  foe!  May 
each  die,  so  I  gain  whole  the  booty. 


Siegfried  i 

(busy  at  forge). 
Workest  thou,  Mimi? 

MiMI 

(relapsing  into  silence  the  while  he  watches  Siegfried 
warily). 
Not  1. 

Siegfried 
(joyfully  chanting  as  he  works), 

Nothung !     Nothung ! 

With  noise  of  thunderer 

Cold,  gleaming  sunderer. 

Weapon  all  glorious,  here  do  I  weld  thee! 


SIEGFRIED  213 

Keen-cold  as  death  thou  art, 

Swift  as  a  breath  thou  art, 

Weapon  victorious,  what  could  have  felled  thee  ? 

Thou  shalt  be  made  a-new 

Sword  like  a  flame-tongue  blue, 

Conqueror  thunderful !     Conqueror  splendid  ! 

Ring  anvil!     Ring  amain! 

Fly  sparks  like  golden  rain! 

Conqueror  wonderful!     My  toil  is  ended! 

[Holds  up  sword,  whole  and  gleaming.  Then 
turns  to  Mimi. 

Siegfried. 

See,  Mimi,  the  sword-smith,  for  dragons  and  plot- 
ting dwarfs,  so  slices  Siegfried's  sword! 

[With  one  stroke  he  crashes  the  anvil  in  two. 
Mimi  cries  J  "Mercy!  Mercy!'*  his  voice  an 
inarticulate  shriek,  and  with  every  sign  of 
terror  rushes  into  the  forest  by  the  path  at 
left  background. 

Siegfried 

(satisfied). 

Gone  is  the  dwarf!  I  shall  fight  with  the  dragon 
alone.  But  first  I'll  gain  breath!  (Throws  himself 
on  grass,  at  left  of  stage.  Faint  music  begins — the 
strains  of  the  ''  Waldwebben  "  or  "  Forest-Weaving " 
of  Wagner  s  ''  Siegfried,**  and  now  and  again  the  twit- 


214  SIEGFRIED 

ter  of  a  bird  note,)  Hark  to  the  forest!  (The  clear 
notes  of  the  birds  are  repeated,)  Winsome  singer,  thou 
singest  sweetly!  Lovely  art  thou,  O  voice  of  the 
wood!  The  moody  dwarf  muttered  one  day  that  the 
voice  of  the  forest  was  real,  and  its  songs  could  be 
made  into  meaning.  In  the  deep  stillness  I  listen.  The 
voice  of  the  wood  speaks  from  its  heart  to  mine.  "  Be 
brave!''  it  crieth.  ''Be  steadfast!"  (Rises.)  Now 
will  I  rouse  the  dragon !  (Blows  the  horn  slung  from 
his  girdle.  Then  listens,)  He  wakes !  He  stirs  him- 
self!  There  in  the  cave  do  I  see  him.  Terrible  is  he 
and  monstrous!  His  eyes  are  like  fire.  His  jaws  like 
a  gateway.  His  teeth  are  as  spears!  (To  his  sword, 
Nothung,  as  he  upholds  it,)  With  all  my  heart  did  I 
fashion  thee!  With  all  my  strength  did  I  hammer 
thee!  With  all  my  soul  did  I  weld  thee!  Fail  me 
not  now  in  my  need !  (He  runs  into  the  cave.  Ter- 
rific din.  The  sound  of  struggle.  The  accompanying 
music y  the  '^Siegfried'*  of  Wagner,  swells  louder  and 
louder.  Siegfried's  voice  is  heard  above  it:  '^ Die, 
earth-worm!  "  He  comes  out,  spent,  and  leans  for  an 
instant  on  his  sword,  which  is  covered  with  blood.) 
The  dragon  is  conquered!  The  world  lies  before  me! 
(Looks  at  his  hand,  which  is  smeared  with  blood  from 
the  sword.)  Yet  like  fire  bites  the  blood !  (Puts  it  to 
his  lips.) 

The  Voice  of  the  Forest 

(a  bird-note  sounding  while  it  speaks). 

Siegfried  I 


SIEGFRIED  215 

Siegfried 

(greatly  startled). 

Something  has  turned  the  forest  voice  into  speech! 
Words  are  borne  to  me  on  the  breeze!  The  magic 
taste  of  the  dragon^s  blood — ^was  it  this  that  it  wrought? 

The  Forest  Voice. 

Siegfried!  Look  deeply  in  the  cave!  There  lieth 
the  ring  that  shall  give  thee  power  over  the  world. 
There  lieth  the  tarn-helm  that  shall  make  thee  vic- 
torious. These  hast  thou  won  with  thy  courage. 
Wrongfully  the  dragon  held  them.  To  thy  lot  do 
they  fall.    Enter,  Siegfried,  and  take  them. 

Siegfried. 

Voice  of  the  Forest,  to  thee  I  give  thanks!  Swiftly 
I'll  take,  then,  my  guerdon.     Proudly  I'll  wear  it! 

\^He  enters  the  cave,  and  a  moment  later  comes 
out  with  the  tarn-helm  and  the  ring, 

Siegfried 

(openly  admiring  them). 

Wonderful  are  they,  and  beauteous.  The  ring  and 
the  tarn-helm!  There  was  gold,  too,  in  heaps,  won- 
drous, shining.  But  what  need  has  a  strong  lad  of 
gold?  Besides,  it  is  heavy  to  carry.  My  sword,  and 
my  helm;  my  wit  and  my  arm!  What  needs  a  youth 
more  when   he  faces  the  world   that  lies  outside  his 


2i6  .    SIEGFRIED 

home!  (Pauses,)  I'll  block  the  cave's  mouth  with 
the  dragon.  The  gold  that  he  guarded  while  living  he 
still  shall  guard,  though  he  be  dead!  (He  goes  into 
the  cave,  and  then  comes  out,  well  satisfied.  Part  of 
the  dragon  s  scales  are  seen  blocking  the  opening.)  Fare- 
well to  the  forest,  and  to  thee  (turns  towards  Forest 
Voice),  ohy  sweet  guider,  my  thanks!  (Draws  near 
to  the  trees  at  left.)  How  long  shall  a  youth  be  vic- 
torious? 

The  Forest  Voice. 
So  long  as  he  fights  without  fear  all  the  dark  and  the 
evil  he  meets  with :  so  long  as  he  keepeth  his  sword  all 
ready  and  bright  for  the  conflict :  so  long  as  his  heart  is 
still  pure,  so  long  as  his  hands  are  not  greedy.  Thus 
shall  he  conquer  all  dragons,  all  evil  things  that  he 
meets  with.     Farewell,  to  thee,  then,  valiant  Siegfried. 

Siegfried 
(his  face  turned  towards  the  voice,  as  he  backs  off 
towards  opening  at  right  background). 
Farewell !  Farewell,  voice  of  guidance !  Now  to  the 
world  will  I  turn  me!  (His  voice  coming  back,  fainter 
and  fainter,  after  he  has  made  his  exit.)  Farewell! 
Farewell ! 

THE  CURTAIN  FALLS 


THE  SNOW  WITCH 
A  Russian  Folk  Play 


CHARACTERS 

Marina^   an   old   peasant   woman 
SiLVER-SoNiA,  the  Snow  Witch 
The  Princess  Valeska 
Paul^  her  sledge-driver 
Ivan 

FOMA 

Peasant  Lads,  Girls,  and  Dancers 


THE  SNOW  WITCH 

Source 

This  folk  play  is  a  weaving  of  several  folk  tales. 
Its  theme  of  contentment  or  submissiveness  to  fate,  is 
one  that  runs  like  a  leit-motive  throughout  much  of 
Russian  folk  lore.  Each  one  has  his  burden.  It  is 
better  to  carry  it  cheerfully  than  to  strive  to  shift  it. 
Indeed,  to  shift  it  would  be  at  the  risk  of  assuming  a 
greater  one.  Ever  the  saying  runs:  "Who  dwelleth 
happily  and  at  ease  in  Russia  ?  " — a  theme  that  has 
been  laborated  into  the  great  folk  poem,  "  Who  in 
Russia  Finds  Life  Good?",  by  Nikolai  Alexyevitch 
Neckrasoff.  This  mournful  note  sounds  not  only  in 
the  dark,  bloody,  tragic  Russian  epics  of  prehistoric 
times;  but  even  in  the  tales  of  the  herdsmen  and  peas- 
ants of  a  much  later  day.  Among  the  supernatural 
figures  that  are  pictured  forth  in  Russian  folk  lore, 
witches  predominate,  good  and  bad  witches,  witches  of 
storm  and  of  safety,  descendants  of  a  time  when  the 
Muscovites  worshiped  the  Sun  Goddess.  It  is  hardly 
strange  in  a  country  where  the  elements  play  so  large 
a  part  in  human  happiness  that  superstition  should  give 
these  same  elements  human  form. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  of  all  European  countries 
219 


220  THE  SNOW  WITCH 

Russia  IS  the  only  one  whose  folk  tales  lack  a  moral 
either  appended  or  Implied.  Neither  in  epic  nor  herds- 
man's story  can  It  be  found ;  and  the  preachment  of  con- 
tentedness  or  submission  is  the  one  approach  to  it  that 
Russian  folk-lore  literature  has  made.  As  to  witches, 
throughout  all  the  epics  and  herdsman's  stories  the 
belief  that  they  could  change  humans  into  animals  or 
birds,  or  into  the  shape  of  other  humans,  is  continually 
dwelt  on.  The  Were  Wolf  mentioned  in  the  play,  a 
superstition  common  to  most  of  the  Northern  countries, 
is  a  banned  human  or  doomed  soul  who  takes  the  form 
of  a  wolf,  and  whose  howl  Is  heard  in  the  night 
watches.  The  Were  Wolf  in  Russia  is  supposed  to 
lurk  in  the  dark  forests,  and  to  It  are  ascribed  many 
uncanny  powers,  among  them  that  of  being  able  to  put 
a  spell  on  humans.  In  all  Russian  folk  tales  the  Were 
Wolf  Is  a  familiar  figure. 

Stage  Setting 

The  schoolroom  setting  is  extremely  simple.  School- 
room furniture  can  be  used.  The  hearth,  two  boxes, 
covered  with  gray  cambric  bulked  to  represent  stone, 
and  touched  with  gray  and  black  chalk  markings.  In 
the  opening  that  forms  the  hearth,  two  red  electric 
light  bulbs,  or  red  tinsel  embers  against  black  tissue 
paper.  If  appropriate  walls  or  background  cannot  be 
had,  screens  or  sacking-covered  clothes-horses  will  serve. 
The  screens  should  be  covered  with  brown  burlap.  The 
window,  a  pane  Inserted  into  one  of  these  screens  and 


THE  SNOW  WITCH  221 

painted  white,  for  frost.  The  music  for  the  dance  may 
be  played  off  stage,  or  by  a  wandering  Russian  fiddler, 
who  enters  with  the  dancers. 

Costumes 

Marina.  A  scarlet  head-dress  made  by  looping  up 
scarlet  cloth  in  a  fantastic  fashion.  A  brown  skirt, 
full,  and  worn  at  a  length  a  little  above  the  ankles. 
A  brown  peasant  bodice,  and  a  white  guimpe. 

The  Snow  Witch.  A  robe  of  white  cotton  batting 
(tacked  on  lawn  to  give  it  shape),  and  covered  with 
silver  dust.  Tight-fitting  sleeves  of  white  canton  flan- 
nel. Wing-like  oversleeves  made  of  silver  tissue,  or 
silver  paper  stitched  to  tarlatan.  They  should  fall  back 
gracefully  w^hen  the  arm  is  raised.  A  white  canton- 
flannel  cloak,  very  full,  caught  to  shoulders  and  sleeves, 
so  that,  with  the  raising  of  the  arms,  the  cloak  is 
raised  likewise,  giving  the  effect  of  a  great  white  moth 
or  storm  bird.  If  these  simple  materials  are  beyond  the 
limit  of  school  costumes,  white  sheets  can  be  used 
instead.  A  wreath  of  silver-frost  leaves  for  head  cov- 
ering. The  hair  beneath  it  sprinkled  with  white 
powder. 

The  Princess  Valeska.  A  scarlet  dress  touch- 
ing the  floor.  A  golden  crown-like  edging  to  a  scarlet 
velvet  cap  (coronal  shaped,  and  set  firmly  on  head). 
A  long  dark  cape  edged  in  fur.     A  golden  necklace. 

Ivan.  Tall  boots.  Russian  blouse  suit.  Tall 
furred  cap.  A  silver  girdle.  A  sword.  A  black  cloak 
about  his  shoulders. 


222  THE  SNOW  WITCH 

FoMA.  A  dark-blue  dress  similar  to  that  worn  by 
Marina.     A  dark-blue  cloak. 

The  peasant  lads  wear  Russian  blouse  suits,  dark 
blue;  dark  green;  black.  The  girls  are  costumed  like 
Foma,  in  green,  maroon,  and  gray,  with  coif-like  caps 
or  head-dresses  of  gay  colors.  The  girls  wear  shawls, 
which  they  remove  on  entering,  and  carry  on  their 
arms. 


THE  SNOW  WITCH* 

Scene:  The  home  of  Marina,  A  hare,  plain  room, 
A  door  in  background,  left.  Beyond  it  a  tiny  win- 
dow,  A  hearth  at  right  with  a  chair  beside  it.  Against 
the  left  wall  a  cupboard.  Beneath  the  window  a 
deal  table.  On  it  a  few  cups  of  earthenware,  and  a 
small  brass  samovar.  On  the  platter  a  loaf  of  black 
bread.  At  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  Marina  is  looking 
out  through  the  tiny  window,  breathing  on  it  to  get  a 
clear  space,  for  it  is  heavily  frosted.  The  samovar  is 
steaming;  near  it  the  wick  of  a  squat  brass  lamp  burns 
with  a  blue  flame;  the  hooded  hearth  sends  out  a  cheer- 
ful, rosy  glow  that  gives  the  room  an  air  of  comfort,  in 
spite  of  the  meagerness  of  its  furnishing, 

Marina 

(rubbing  at  window). 

It  IS  a  fine  night,  and  a  cold.  Ai!  How  sharp  the 
stars  are  shining!  They  are  as  white  as  the  snow  that 
covers  the  steppes!  And  the  snow — how  it  is  whirling 
whenever  the  wind  passes.     Now  it  blows  like  a  white 

scarf;   now   it   seems   to   move   and   tower   as   if 

(Turns,   facing  audience,   and  rubs   her  eyes,)     The 

♦Printed  by  arrangement  with  The  Butterick  Company. 
223 


224  THE  SNOW  WITCH 

whiteness  must  have  blinded  me;  for  I  thought  I  saw 
the  snow  move  like  a  human  shape,  a  woman  with  a 
crown  of  frost-leaves.  (Turns  again  to  window,) 
No !  No !  I  was  but  dreaming !  There  are  the  village 
lights,  and  there's  no  one  passing,  though  I  can  hear 
the  faint,  far  sound  of  music  from  where  the  lads  and 
girls  are  dancing.  (Crosses  to  hearth,)  Dancing! 
No!  No!  Marina,  your  feet  are  too  old  for  that! 
Your  youth  lies  far  behind  you.  You've  only  the  sing- 
ing steam  and  the  fire  to  keep  you  company.  (Wind 
gives  a  gust,  without.)  There's  the  wind  again !  'Tis 
like  a  voice  that's  calling.  (Returns  to  window j  rubs 
it,  and  peers  out,)     There's  the  snow  still  whirling 

with   the   wind,    and    looking   like (Starts   back 

from  window.)  Nay,  I  was  right!  'Twas  some- 
thing moving!  (Peers  again.)  Now,  as  I  live,  it  is 
the  Snow  Witch  whom  folk  call  Silver-Sonia — she  who 
goes  abroad  before  the  flakes  come  flying!  I  wonder 
why  she  is  looking  at  my  window ! 

SiLVER-SONIA 
(knocking  at  the  door  without), 
Marina!     Marina!     Let  me  in! 

Marina. 

She  knocks!  She  calls  me!  (Hesitates,)  Shall 
I  open  the  door,  or  no  ?  All  the  Snow  Witch  ever  does 
is    to    wander    about    before    a    storm.     (Silver-Sonia 


■  THE  SNOW  WITCH  225 

knocks  again.)     I  never  heard  of  her  working  harm  to 
any  one;  so  why  should  I  grudge  to  lift  the  latch? 


[^Opens  the  door. 


SiLVER-SONIA 


(crossing  the  threshold,  a  white-clad  glittering  figure, 

wreathed  with  frost,  and  with  something 

very  stately  in  her  bearing). 

There  are  good  witches  and  evil  witches,  Marina. 
All  those  who  live  in  Bitter  Russia  know  it  well.  And 
they  know,  too,  that  I  have  never  used  my  powers  for 
aught  save  the  sheltering  of  the  furry  folk  of  the  forest, 
and  the  enlightening  of  those  who  live  in  villages.  I 
am  a  prophecy,  a  warning.  When  folk  see  me,  they 
say:  ''A  storm  is  coming.  Let  us  put  off  our  jour- 
ney till  it  passes."  Sometimes  I  tread  the  deserted 
highway.  Sometimes  I  pause  at  the  hearths  of  humans. 
To-night  I  saw  the  friendly  gleam  of  your  window,  and 
I  said :  "  Marina  is  alone.  She  will  make  me  welcome." 
(Turns  to  Marina,  who  has  backed  away  from  her, 
somewhat  over-awed.)  It  is  not  of  my  will  I  go  a-rov- 
ing;  but  when  the  wild  winds  blow  I  feel  their  echo 
here  in  my  heart.     Then  must  I  forth,  whether  I  will 


Marina 

(timidly). 
Is  there  to  be  a  storm  to-night? 


226  THE  SNOW  WITCH 

SiLVER-SONIA. 

Nay.  But  to-morrow  the  clouds  will  gather,  and 
there  will  be  a  snowstorm.  To-night,  'tis  sharp  and 
clear!     To-morrow — flakes  a-flying! 

[As  she  speaks  the  silverish  gauze  that  floats 
from  her  sleeve  whirls  as  with  presage  of 
coming  storm  as  she  raises  her  arm, 

Marina. 
You  must  see  strange  sights,  Silver-Sonia ! 

SiLVER-SONIA. 

I  see  the  great  white  wastes  where  never  a  human 
stirs!  I  see  the  midnight  forests  black  against  the 
stars.  I  see  the  huddled  villages  with  tiny  lights  in 
their  windows.  I  see  the  bleak  harvest  fields,  where 
the  drifts  lie  deeply,  and  where  the  lone  gray  wolf  is 
fleet  as  a  moving  shadow. 

Marina 

(beginning  to  recover  from  her  awe,  and  wake  to  a 
sense  of  manners). 

Will  you  not  be  seated,  Silver-Sonia? 

SiLVER-SONIA. 

Beneath  a  roof?  Nay,  nay.  I  must  be  with  the 
storm-wind.    Yet  ere  I  leave  the  steppes  of  the  village 


¥ 


THE  SNOW  WITCH  227 

I  will  return  to  you;  for  I  see  that  my  going  grieves 
you,  good  Marina.  And  for  those  who  love  a  hearth 
what  hearth  could  shine  brighter!  You  must  be  happy 
in  this  home  of  yours,  Marina. 

Marina 

(bitterly). 

Happy !  An  old  woman  happy !  With  all  my  years 
behind  me,  and  no  joy  to  come! 

SiLVER-SONIA. 

Yet  you  have  many  comforts,  Marina. 

Marina. 

Comforts!  To  be  living  here  old  and  lonely?  Do 
you  call  that  comfort?  Fve  had  my  fill  of  such!  If 
I  v/ere  young,  now,  like  some  of  our  village  girls,  or 

rich     like     the     Princess     Valeska (Grumbles,) 

There's  not  a  soul  hereabout  but  what  must  be  happier 
than  I! 

SiLVER-SONIA 
(quietly). 
How  would  you  like  to  change,  Marina? 

Marina 

(looking  at  Silver-Sonia,  half -fascinated,  half -fearful). 

Change Do  you  mean Have  you  power 

to  make  me  change 


228  THE  SNOW  WITCH 

SiLVER-SONIA. 

But  lay  your  hand  in  the  hand  of  the  human  whom 
you  envy  most,  and  then  you  will  change  places.  Ah, 
I  see!  You  only  half-believe  me.  Look  into  my  eyes, 
Marina  (Marina  does  as  she  is  bid.)  You  do  not 
doubt  me  now. 

Marina 

(brushing  her  hand  across  her  own  eyes  and  speaking  to 
herself). 

There  is  magic  in  her  eyes!  They  are  like  deep 
wells  with  stars  in  them! 

SiLVER-SONIA. 

Now  you  can  change  your  lot,  Marina.  You  can 
be  another  than  yourself. 

Marina 

(joyfully). 

And  some  one  else  will  be  changed  into  poor  old 
Marina!  (Suddenly  pausing  in  her  delight,)  But 
what  would  a  neighbor  do  if  she  were  changed  to 
Marina?  Would  she  look  like  me?  Would  she  talk 
like  me?  And  what  would  the  neighbors  say  if  she 
told  them  that  she  was  no  longer  herself,  though  she 
stood  in  my  skin? 


THE  SNOW  WITCH  229 

SiLVER-SONIA. 

They  would  say,  "  Poor  Marina  has  gone  mad  to- 
day.    The  White  Fox  has  bitten  her." 

Marina 

(again    overjoyed). 

So  they  would !  So  they  would !  None  would  know 
I  had  done  it!  Oh,  to  think  I  can  change  from  being 
myself!     It  is  a  great  gift  you  have  given  me! 

SiLVER-SONIA 

(at  door). 

When  I  return  I  will  find  how  you  have  used  my 
gift.  I  will  know  whose  lot  in  life  you  have  chosen 
for  your  own !     Choose  wisely,  Marina  Machinoff ! 

[^Exit  Sonia. 
Marina. 

Choose!  Fve  the  whole  village  to  choose  from! 
(Suiting  her  step  and  actions  to  the  words,)  Young 
women,  old  women,  middle-aged!  I  can  be  what  I 
like!  Only  to  lay  my  hand  in  the  hand  of  the  one  I 
envy  m.ost !  (A  light  breaking  over  her  face,)  Why, 
I  can  be  a  man !  (Again  suiting  her  action  to  the  word 
as  she  walks  up  and  down.)  A  soldier,  a  sledge-driver, 
a  mojuk!     And  when  we  have  changed  places,  how  the 


230  THE  SNOW  WITCH 

soldier  will  rage  to  find  himself  in  petticoats!  Knit- 
ting instead  of  marching!  (Laughs  to  herself.)  Ai! 
What  a  jest  it  would  be!     Til  place  my  hand  in  his, 

so!    And  then (Laughs  to  herself,  and  then  wipes 

her  eyes,)  But,  after  all,  it  is  better  to  stay  a  woman. 
(Sits  by  hearth,)  Now,  let  me  see,  who  shall  I  be? 
(Telling  off  her  neighbors  on  her  fingers,)  Mary  a 
Topliff?  No!  No!  Her  nose  is  far  too  long!  Alia 
Povlova?  But  her  step  is  halting.  Besides,  they're 
poor.  And  to  be  happy  one  must  be  rich  and  noble. 
Hark!  (Nearer  and  nearer  come  the  sounds  of  sleigh- 
bells,)  Sleighbells!  And  of  silver!  Who  can  be 
passing?  Can  it  be  some  one  with  whom  I  might 
change  places? 

[  There  comes  the  sound  of  a  whip-handle  knock- 
ing on  the  door^  Marina  hastens  to  open  it, 
and  Paul,  the  sledge-driver,  stands  on  the 
threshold,  wrapped  in  furs, 

Paul. 

Have  you  a  fire  here?  Fire  and  shelter  for  the 
Princess  Valeska? 

Marina 

(overcome)* 

The  Princess!  (Paul  stands  back.  The  Princess 
enters.  She  is  richly  garbed,  and,  after  a  glance  about 
the  room,  sweeps  to  the  fire  at  left.)     Excellency,  all 


THE  SNOW  WITCH  231 

that  I  have  is  at  your  Excellency's  service.     (Looks  at 
Paul.)     Your  Excellency's  sledge-driver? 


Princess  Valeska 
(at  fire). 
Let  him  wait  v^ithout. 


{Exit  Paul. 


Marina 

(to  herself). 

To  be  a  sledge-driver!     Not  for  a  thousand  kopecs 
would  I  lay  my  hand  in  his! 

Princess  Valeska 

(at  fire). 

Good  peasant 

Marina 

(starting  forward). 

Can  I  serve  your  Excellency? 

Princess  Valeska 

(who  has  unfastened  her  cloak). 

The  warmth  of  your  fire  has  served  me,  good  peas- 
ant, and  I  must  be  going  on.     How  do  they  call  you? 


232  THE  SNOW  WITCH 

Marina 

(bowing  humbly). 

They  call  me  Marina,  Excellency.     Will  your  Ex- 
cellency taste  my  tea?     It  is  all  that  I  have  to  offer. 

Princess  Valeska 

(more  to  herself  than  to  Marina), 

No!     No!     I  only  want  the  warmth.     I  am  afraid 
of  the  night.     I  shiver  through  my  furs. 

Marina. 

You  fear  the  night,  Excellency? 

Princess  Valeska. 
The  night  and  the  robbers. 

Marina 

(startled). 


Robbers ! 


Princess  Valeska. 


It  comes  iof  having  gold  and  jewels.  Always  they 
follow  me.  Sometimes  they  start  like  shadows  from 
the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  sometimes  they  gallop  after 
me  to  my  very  doors. 


THE  SNOW  WITCH  233 

Marina 

(gasping). 
Shield  us!     Have  mercy!     I  should  die  of  terror! 

Princess  Valeska 

(shuddering). 

Even  in  my  dreams  I  see  them — their  greedy,  cruel 
eyes.  Why,  have  you  never  shaken  in  your  sleep,  good 
mother  I 

Marina 

(vehemently). 
Oh,  never,  never,  never! 

Princess  Valeska. 

Have  you  never  driven  homeward  with  your  heart 
thudding  with  fear  ?  Ah,  I  see !  Peace  dwells  beneath 
your  roof!  A  Princess  must  go  like  a  Princess;  but  a 
peasant  is  safe  from  danger.  It  is  a  free  and  happy 
moment  I  have  spent  with  you,  Marina,  and  therefore 
you  may  take  my  fingers  within  your  own.  You  may 
kiss  my  hand. 

Marina 

(starting  forward,  and  then  drawing  back  as  she  re- 
members). 

Oh,  no,  no,  no!  I  mean — I  kiss  your  fingers,  Ex- 
cellency!    (With   her  hands   held  tightly   behind  her 


234   .  THE  SNOW  WITCH 

back,  Marina  bends  over  the  Princess's  outstretched 
hand,)  How  should  I  touch  so  snowy  a  hand  as  yours 
with  a  palm  that  is  as  rough  as  mine!  (Kisses  the 
Princess's  hand.)     The  honor  overcomes  me! 


Princess  Valeska. 
My  cloak,  Marina. 

Marina 

(assisting  her). 
May  your  Excellency  speed  well  and  safely ! 

Princess  Valeska. 
I  thank  you. 

\^Exit   Valeska.     Sleigh  bells  grow   fainter  and 
fainter. 

Marina. 

If  she  had  made  me  put  my  hand  in  hers Ah, 

I  shiver  to  think  of  it !  Darkness  and  robbers !  (Shiv- 
ers again.)  I  would  not  be  the  Princess  for  a  thou- 
sand rubles!  (Dance  music  begins  outside,  drawing 
nearer  and  nearer.)  It  is  always  ill  luck  to  be  a 
woman.     If  I  were  only  a  lad,  with  the  world  before 

me!     There's   Ivan   now So   tall,   so  strong,  so 

handsome!     He'd  be  the  match  for  a  dozen  robbers! 


THE  SNOW  WITCH  235 

Ivan 

(laughing  in  doorway). 

Why,  so  he  would,  dushenka,  unless  they  were  a 
match  for  him. 

\_Dance  music  grows  nearer. 

Marina. 

Oh,  Ivan,  how  you  startled  me! 

Ivan. 

Did  you  not  hear  me  knock?  The  world  is  full  of 
surprises ! 

Marina. 

It  is,  indeed.  What  would  you  say,  now,  Ivan,  if 
you  should  find  yourself  turned  into  an  old  woman  like 
me? 

[Folds  her  arms  and  regards  him, 

Ivan 

(folding  his  arms  and  regarding  her). 

And  what  would  you  say  if  you  found  yourself  a  sol- 
dier? Ah,  you  think  I  look  wonderful  now  with  the 
cloak  and  the  clanking  sword;  but  you  should  see  us 
on  the  march  with  our  shoes  frozen  to  our  feet,  and 


2Z^  THE  SNOW  WITCH  ._    | 

nothing  to  eat  except  crusts  and  snow!     You  would 
not  tnvy  us  then,  I  give  you  my  hand  upon  it ! 

[Stretches  out  his  hand, 

Marina 

(starting  back). 

No !  No !  Do  not  give  me  your  hand.  I  will  take 
your  word.  I  will  take  your  word.  Listen !  There's 
music,  Ivan.     The  dancers  must  be  coming  here ! 

[With  a  gay  shout  Marina's  door  is  opened,  and 
the  dancers  dance  in  and  fill  the  room,  lads 
and  girls  in  peasant  costumes.  As  they  pass 
Marina  she  reaches  out  her  hand  and  stays 
one  of  the  girls, 

Marina. 

There  is  no  one  here  as  beautiful,  as  light  of  foot  as 
you,  pretty  Foma.  Will  you  lay  your  hand  in  mine 
and  take  a  step  or  two  with  an  old  woman? 

Foma 

(stretching  out  her  hand,  and  then  pausing  as  there 
comes  the  far-off  howl  of  a  wolf). 

What  sound  is  that? 

Ivan 

(jesting). 
The  Were  Wolf  is  calling  you,  Foma. 


THE  SNOW  WITCH  237 

Marina 

(starting  back). 

Heaven  save  us!  You  cannot  mean  what  you  are 
saying!  It  is  not  true  that  the  wicked  powers  of  the 
forest  have  cast  a  spell  on  Foma?. 

FOMA 

(holding  out  her  hand). 
Come,  neighbor  Marina,  the  music  is  calling  us! 

Marina 
(drawing  back). 

No!  No!  My  feet  are  too  old  for  dancing.  I 
spoke  in  jest,  pretty  Foma. 

[Foma  turns  away,  laughing,  and  joins  the  other 
dancers.  The  village  fiddler  has  been  un- 
flagging in  his  music,  and  Foma,  with  the 
others,  turns  towards  the  door.  One  by  one 
all  the  dancers  cross  the  threshold  and  disap- 
pear into  the  night,  save  Ivan,  who  lingers 
for  a  moment  with  Marina. 

Marina 

(anxiously). 

And  you,  too,  spoke  in  jest,  did  you  not,  Ivan?  It 
is  not  true  that  the  powers  of  the  forest  have  put  a 
spell  on  Foma? 


238  THE  SNOW  WITCH 

Ivan 

(half -smiling,  half-serio us) . 

You  cannot  tell  about  another's  life,  good  neighbor. 
There  are  dark  spells  woven  in  the  shadow,  and  bright 
spells  woven  in  the  sun.     No  life  is  all  sun  or  all 

Marina 

(coming  slowly  and  thoughtfully  back  to  the  center  of 
ihe  room), 

I  do  not  know  whether  he  be  in  jest  or  in  earnest; 
but  of  one  thing  am  I  certain :  I  will  not  try  to  change 
places  with  any.     The  Princess  is  always  in   terror; 

Ivan  must  suffer  as  he  marches;  and  Foma Was 

it  true  about  the  Were  Wolf  or  was  Ivan  jesting,  I 
wonder?  Well,  be  that  as  it  may,  I  am  glad  I  did  not 
lay  my  hand  in  hers.  No!  No!  It  is  better  to  be 
just  one's  self,  with  one's  own  burdens! 

SiLVER-SONIA 

(entering  softly). 

Well  spoken,  Marina!  I  see  you  have  learned  true 
wisdom.  See  you,  the  fire  has  burned  low,  and  the 
charm  has  ended.  You  may  lay  your  hand  in  mine 
without  fear.     Look  once  again  into  my  eyes,  IVIarina. 

[Marina  does  as  she  is  bid.  Sonia  slips  a  white 
ring  into  Marina's  hand,  and  then  goes  softly 
out  the  door. 


THE  SNOW  WITCH  239 

Marina 

(delighted), 

A  ring!     A  gift  from  Silver-Sonia!     What  says  it? 
(Reads,) 

Choose  not  another's  lot  or  pelf, 
Happiness  lies  within  thyself ! 

I  am  thinking  the  Snow  Witch  speaks  truly! 

CURTAIN 


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THE  BOB'S  HILL  BRAVES 

Illustrated  by  H.  S.  DeLay.     12mo.    $1.50 
The  "Bob's  HilP*  band  spend  a  vacation  in  Illinois,  where 
they  play  at  being  Indians,  hear  thrilling  tales  of  real  Indians, 
and  learn  much  frontier  history.    A  story  of  especial  inter- 
est to  "Boy  Scouts." 

"Merry  youngsters.  Capital.  Thrilling  tales  of  the  red  men  and 
explorers.  These  healthy,  red-blooded.  New  England  boys." — Phila- 
delphia Press. 

THE  BOY  SCOUTS  OF  BOB'S  HILL 

Illustrated  by  Gordon  Grant.    12mo.    $1.25  net. 
The  "gang"  are  just  human,  humorous  and  clearly  indi- 
vidualized as  ever ;  and  while  the  influence  of  the  book  is 
good,  there  is  no  "preaching,"  and  fun  and  adventure  abound. 

CAMP  BOB'S  HILL 

Illustrated  by  Gordon  Grant.    12mo.    $1.25  net. 
Another  wholesome  story  about  Mr.  Burton's  favorite  boys. 
The  boy  scout  appeal  is  stronger  than  in  any  of  the  earlier 
books. 

HENRY      MOLT     AND     COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


14  DAY  USE 

RKIURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

^        61an'57PW 

RECD  LD 

DEC  12  1955 

? 

■-'' 

LD  21-100m-6,'56                                 ,,   .General  Library     . 
(B9311sl0)476                                    Umversuy  of  California 

VB  31868 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


